


The Red Snow

by your_taxidermy



Category: Original Work
Genre: Multi, Slow Burn, World War II, historical fiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-02-16 08:03:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 77,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13049901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_taxidermy/pseuds/your_taxidermy
Summary: Russia, 1941, WWII.Europe is in turmoil with Nazi Germany making a rise to the top very quickly. Follow the dark and tragic story of Russian siblings, Misha, a deadly sniper, and Mikhail Volkov, a fearsome lieutenant through the battlefield into twisted Nazi prison, Stalag 324 in Poland. On the other side of the world in the southern states of America, Scarlett Rose has her own battles to fight with a new rise in Dixie, a neo-confederate gang raising hell among her small town. Little does everyone know, their paths will cross in the name of world freedom.





	1. Chapter 1

At the beginnings of a long, bloody war, the warm summer months normally filled with joy and laughter were torn apart by war and bloodshed. The Soviets had just been invaded by German troops and Russian Sniper, going under the name Misha Volkova resided in the dirt with a bullet wound in her leg. The air was dead, much like the rest of the land around them. Both dead Russians and Germans were on the ground, perhaps some were barely clinging to life. Bodies were thrown about, blood stained the ground with shattered bones and tears from the angels above. The Germans stormed through like a stampede, though the fight was long and violent, a sniper assumed she was the last one standing. Not a sound was to be heard, birds circled the field, yet they didn’t make a sound.

 

Barely conscious, the woman lifts her head to see her dead comrades around her. As she crawls, she winced in pain. She felt a sharp pain in her thigh as she rolled over on her back. Misha looked down at her leg to find her pants ripped and stained with her own blood. Her sniper rifle was still swung around her, she struggled to get to her feet, she used the butt of her gun to support herself. When she looks around, her heart sank to the bottom of her soul.

 

Dead. Everyone was dead. She saw her friends, her comrades, even her enemies. She coughed, she felt blood about to spill from her lips. Water.

 

She needed water.

 

As the gained her balance, the world around her was spinning, but her duty remained. She shook her head and pushed through the struggle, fighting harder than she’d ever fought on the field. But to her luck, she saw what seemed to be a water canister next to a German soldier. WIth a light of hope, she walked to the object, stepping over the dead bodied under her feet.

 

“Who’s there?” a soldier groaned. She knew it wasn’t her comrade.

He reached for the water canister only a few feet away from him. “The only survivor?” she asked, pushing the canister away from him. “Why do you ask, you ruskie bitch?” he snapped weakly, trying to crawl to the water. “What were your plans after storming into my country?”

 

“Like I’d tell you, are you people really that daft?” She smiled and grabbed the water canister, taking a heavy gulp, the faint tasted of dirt and blood coating her throat. “Because, if you help me, I’ll help you, understand? Give me information, I’ll give you this water and your life.”

 

He was loyal to his country and her words were coated with poison, he didn’t trust her. “I’d rather die than tell you.” Misha finished the water after hearing his words. “Your wish,” she said, checking her rifle for bullets. The water gave her the strength to kill him and she would do it with such joy, although, she didn’t like killing people.

 

But she’d kill a fascist.

“No noble fight, German? No ‘Death to the union’?” she asked, popping a bullet into her weapon. With ease, she loaded it, knocking the dirt and dust that had gathered over time. Misha scanned the rifle, admiring the craftsmanship yet again. “Your country… will fall.” he breathed, trying so hard to stay alive. She couldn’t hold back the laugh. “Perhaps that will happen in your dreams. But what I will tell you is this: I won’t waste a bullet on you when you’re already dead.” she smiled and looked over him, her tall frame blocking the sun from his eyes. “Goodnight,” Misha hissed, knocking him in the face with her gun. She trekked on, she’d surely find her base sooner or later.

 

Her journey was long and tiresome, the more she walked, the more bodies she saw piling up. Only a few miles away from the German target, she knew she wouldn’t last that long. Already exhausted, she looked for a place to reside for the night. Her legs grew tired but her hope rose when she saw a cabin in the distance, it felt so close but so far. “Please, God…” she whispered. The land was flourishing the farther she got farther away from the city. She wouldn’t survive if she went there now, the sun was already setting. As she got closer to the cabin, she began to call. “Is anyone home?” She found herself stepping into the woods and for once she felt safe out in the open. “Russian soldier, please, I only seek a night’s shelter!” she struggled, collapsing only feet away from its steps.

 

“Mother, I think someone needs help!” A man called as he looked out the window of their cabin,

“Go, my boy.”

The man rushed outside to see the soldier on the found, heaving from exhaustion. “Who are you with?” he asked, hesitant to touch her. “With… With… the union.”

 

“Don’t worry, we will get you the help you need.” Carefully, he picked the woman up and saw the wound in her leg. He rushed her in the house and rested her on the table. “Mother, please get the woman some water.” the elderly woman rushed for water as her son went to work on bandaging Misha. “Don’t worry, you’ll be alright. Just hold on a little longer.” His thick accent rolled off his tongue like water on glass. “I need to to take off your jacket to check for more wounds, alright?” She nodded weakly. He undid the belt around her stomach and tossed it on the floor behind him. Quickly, he worked on the buttons of her jacket and carefully removed it, he listened to her sharp gasps as he moved a bit too quickly. “Shh, it’s alright.” the man cooed. Misha was too weak to protest the pain even if she wanted to. “Did you lose your team?” He asked.

 

“Da… the Germans have probably reached the cities now, I can’t…” she started to protest the war, “Why aren’t you with the Russians, friend?” she asked, ending her words in a heavy sigh. “Injury,” he said, checking the wounds on her stomach. “I have to look at your leg, the bullet seems to be in your leg still, I have to extract it. You may want to bite something.” she nodded and reached for her belt on the floor. ‘He is gentle, no military man.’ she thought. He cut her pants with a pair of scissors and found the bullet wound. “Please, try and relax, will you, soldier?” Misha nodded and brought the belt to her lips and clamped down, biting as hard as she could to prepare herself for the pain.

 

He dug around in the wound, her muffled screams filled the cabin, her hands gripped the table so hard her fingertips began to blister. Her eyes were pinched shut, the pain filling her head and making her dizzy. Her jaw was clenched so hard she had to let go and scream. “Oh my god!” she writhed, her pain was overrun with rage. “Get the damn thing out!” In her fit of rage, he ripped the bullet out and dropped it on the ground. She groaned in pain, rolling over on her side. “Thank… thank you.” she breathed, struggling to lift her hand and place it on his.

 

She fell asleep on the table, covered in dirt and blood. The man who was so kind to help her watched over her sleeping body during the night and didn’t make a single sound. He used a damp rag to wipe the dirt from her face as she slept, he admired her face despite the war blemishes. “My boy,” whispered his mother, “let the woman sleep, you must rest too.” He only nodded. “Goodnight, my soldier.”

 

He headed to his room and crashed onto his bed, he had no idea how tired he really was until the thin pillow kissed his face.

 

The cabin was quiet, a soft fire crackling to keep it warm, candles smoking after being blown out, and only the starlight above them. Soon the sun would rise and by instinct, Misha would rise with the dawn. Though he dreams were none other than terrifying, her body was covered in sweat from the fear.

 

“No, you aren’t dying! I won’t let you damn it!” She screamed at the top of her lungs as her father rested in a hospital bed. “Please. My daughter, don’t cry over me, I beg of you.”

 

“I swear I’ll make them pay, no matter what I have to do. I will slaughter every single one of them, they will fear my name!” She pounded her fists on the table and her hair fell over her face in the sudden movement. “They may have taken everything but I won’t let them take your honor! I won’t!”

 

“Then fight, my child, fight for your country and most of all,” he paused.

“Fight for yourself.”

 

“Hey, wake up-”

The sudden voice startled the woman and she pulled a knife from her belt and held it to the man’s neck before seeing who it was. She retracted and her face went from ‘I’m going to fucking murder you’ to ‘I’m sorry.’

 

“Sorry, but you shouldn’t sneak up on a soldier like that.” She retorted, slipping the wicked knife into her belt. “I made you something to eat, you must be starving.” he handed her a bowl of porridge with a cup of hot tea in his other hand. “Don’t waste your supplies on me, you’ve done enough for me.” She straightened her back and when her feet hit the wood floor, pain shot up her leg from her wound. She groaned and looked down at her leg. “Don’t move suddenly, you’ll rip your stitches.”

 

Stitches?

 

“Are you a doctor?”

“Yes, so please, listen to me, you need to eat before you blackout.” Misha hesitated.

 

“Please.” he insisted, he placed the bowl in her hand.

“What’s your name, soldier?” the doctor asked, taking a seat in front of her.

 

“Misha,” she said flatly, taking a large bite of the food.

“I’m Nikolay. Mind telling me what happened out there?”

 

“I do mind, but I’ll tell you anyway. Germans came in from the outskirts and my brigade was sent out to fight back, we all fucking died apart from me. The end. They’re probably stormed in by now while I sit idly by eating warm food while the rest…” her voice cracked when the realization she was the last one standing sank in. “...The rest of my countrymen could be dying.”

 

“Misha, you don’t need to feel bad, you can’t control it all.’ Nikolay tried to comfort her but his words only made her rage.

 

“Why do I get to sit here when I can fight?! Huh?! What made me so damn lucky when those… those… nazi ublyudki step foot in the country that I’ve given everything for?! This damned war has taken everything from me and now those scum think they can waltz in here?!”

 

She slammed her fists on the table in a fit of rage. “Right now, I’m rendered useless and I won’t allow you to waste your time into me, I can take care of myself and I think you’ve got this whole thing backward; I take care of the people, not the other way around.” Misha’s face was red with emotion but Nikolay only stood there with eyes wide from her rant. “Misha, I don’t know what to say, I know you’ve lost a lot right now but if you want to serve the people, you need to be alive and I need to keep you alive. So please, eat the damn food and drink your tea.” Niko’s eyes went sharp, her stubbornness would be the death of her and he knew that. “Please Misha, if you can do one thing for me, just please eat.” The woman’s face went from rage to guilt.

 

“I’m sorry.” She turned her back and began to eat the food, each bite sending guilt throughout her frame. When she finished, she stormed outside to get some air. Nikolay wanted to give her space but he was worried about her, she was reckless indeed. He heard a series of brutal curses outside the cabin, her voice shaking the very mountains around them. He peaked his head out to see the woman leaning against a tree, lighting a cigarette between her lips, exhaling the ivory smoke with each puff. He walked out, an apparent limp in his strides. “Listen, Misha, I want to help you and I can tell you want to let off steam. Maybe I can help?”

 

“You show this much kindness to everyone, doc?” she asked, a faint smile on her lips.

“Yes, are you?”

“No, I’m not. Want to know why? Let me make one thing clear for you: I don’t do bonds outside the military, I don’t stay in one place long and you know how hard it is to forget someone. Now, you said you’ve got a bad leg? Do you know how to use a gun?”

 

“No, I don’t. I don’t believe in killing.”

“Neither do I, but I do it anyway. I’m leaving when I can and I want you to know how to use a gun, alright? So, I’m going to teach you.”

 

Niko didn’t have time to respond until the woman grabbed her trusted rifle against the trunk.

 

“Don’t be scared, if I get scared, I die. End of. Don’t hesitate because one day you might have to use one of these. I’ll set a target for you.” Misha wasn’t good at showing normal affection if that wasn’t obvious enough. It seems like the pain in her leg didn’t bother her, but her sense of duty pushed her through any pain she felt. Now she had an order, she was back in training, though instead of her being the little runt; she was general.

 

On a wooden post resided a glass bottle she found on the ground.

 

“Hold it with purpose, you have a job to do.” Misha handed him the rifle and he looked down with a confused look on his face. “Misha, I’m no soldier.”

 

“You don’t have to be a soldier to shoot a rifle to defend yourself. Just watch me.” She took it from his hands and aimed at her target, around 50 meters away. “Watch what I do.”

 

With grace, she inhaled and held her breath, her eyes were fixated on the bottle, and her stance was that of a noble knight, shining confidence gleamed upon her. And like it was nothing, her finger pulled the trigger and her deadly bullet flew through the air and cracked the bottle.

 

Nikolay watched in amazement, she was clearly experienced and it showed in her fire. The bullet ripped through the air and into the glass, a million shards of glass fell onto the ground. As he lowered her rifle to a casual hold, she looked over at him and only smiled.

 

“Would you like a shot, Nikolay?”

He hesitated, but the prideful look on the woman’s face convinced him.

 

“I am 25 years old and have been in service for 2 years and I have climbed my way up the ranks, you must not hold back. Perhaps that’s a comfort, friend?”

 

He shrugged and took the weapon from her hands and smiled. “Fine, but will you catch me if I fly back?”

 

“I won’t need to. Aim for the shard that’s still sticking up, I’m right here so you have nothing to fear.”

 

She stood beside him and guided him through the motions. “Take a deep breath, Nikolay, your gun is your friend.”

 

His dark eyes looked through the scope and he locked onto the bottle shard, just as asked.

 

And he fired, the bullet hitting the target. “Bravo, my friend. If only you didn’t have that leg injury, though, how did you get that, if it is no secret?”

 

He shook his head. “Prosthetic leg, can’t tell, can you?”

Misha was taken back by the reply. “I’m sorry, but you needn’t carry a gun to be a good countryman, doctor.” She smiled and patted his shoulder. Nikolay bowed his head. “You don’t have to speak so highly of me, I’m just a man.”

 

“A man you may be, but you saved my life.” Misha smiled. “Besides, my brother is a man but he is a hero.”

 

“You have a brother? We have a phone here, you should call him and tell him where you are.”

“You don’t mind?” she lifted a brow.

“Of course not, please, let’s go!”

 

As the two made their way into the cabin, Misha walked in front of Nikolay, keeping a guard over him. Her leg began to ache again so she slowed, the stitches stretched and pulled as she trekked over the land, now wishing they didn’t go out so far. She held the door open for the doctor and kept a watchful eye out for anyone who may have made the mistake of sneaking up on her. When she walked in, she shook the evening cold off. He pointed to the phone and she almost ran to it, her mind raced with all possibilities, would she even be able to contact him?

 

As she dialed, Russia was now in shambles, fighting off invaders, her brother prepared the teams to be sent out to drive out the Germans. In his office, a burning cigarette between his lips. He exhaled and began giving out orders to the men surrounding him. “Minsk must have Panzers sent there immediately, lest we want to lose it, is that understood, men?”

 

“Da!”

The lieutenant barked his orders from an iron throne as he looked over the now invaded city.

“I want every single one of you to fight harder than ever before, know that I’m right behind you.” Mikhail gave all his men a firm pat on the shoulder and wished them the best of luck. His boots clicked along the floor as he paced in front of his brigade. “Now, fight for the Motherland and send these fascists to their graves.”

 

His words were chilling, he meant every bit of it and he wished to fight with though, though his orders lie elsewhere. As he watched his men leave, he heard a ring at the phone. Rushing to answer it, the same line as usual: “lieutenant Volkov speaking.”

 

“Mikhail, tell me what’s happening right now.”

“Misha, you’re alive?! Where are you?! And I just sent men to Minsk, tell me you’re safe.”

“I am, thanks to my friend here. Listen, I’m on the outskirts of the city, I need to come help you now. You need snipers, don’t you?”

 

“Misha, I can’t ask you to come into the city now but I can’t come get you. I sent you out to fight so I need to get you back. Are you injured?”

“Yes, a bullet to the leg but I can still fight!” She almost pleaded, slamming her fist on the wooden table where she sat. The man sighed. “Brother, listen to me: my men are dead. All of them. My brigade is no more, I have no one to fight with but you. I need to find you, tell me where I go and I’ll follow your word. I’m not letting anyone die without me, you hear me?”

 

He sighed, growing more annoyed.

The Panzers should be coming your way now, join them and you’ll see me soon. Don’t you dare die on me, Misha. I have to go, remember what I said: Do not die.”

 

“Ponimat. Goodbye, my brother.”

 

They hung up the phones and Misha immediately locked onto her duties, she was ready to fight. “Nikolay, my friend, I must go, thank you for everything. But now I will truly repay you with protecting you. Goodbye, my friend. I must say goodbye to your mother.” Just as she said that, the elderly woman placed her hand on Misha’s shoulder. “Be safe, Misha.”

 

Misha turned to her and knelt on her knee and gently took the old woman’s hand. She kissed it and put her own right hand on her chest. “Thank you for everything, mistress. I will never forget the kindness you both have shown me.”

 

Her true nature was shining upon her, on one knee, kissing the hand of an elderly woman, ready to give her life for her countryman. Her soft amber eyes looked up at the woman and saw her smiling face. She felt her military cap be gently placed on her head. Misha got to her feet and saluted the woman. “Now, fight, my child.”

 

Misha would forever remember those words and hold them close to her heart. She was met with Nikolay at the door, looking rather glum. “Don’t leave your homes until the news is spread that it is safe. I will never forget you, Nikolay.” She leaned in to give him a kiss on his cheek. His face flushed a bright red and before he could say anything, the Soviet woman began her journey to meet up with the Panzers and join the battle for Minsk.


	2. Mighty War Of Russian Guns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhhh this hurt to write, but I have no one to blame but myself! The amount of research gone into this chapter is wild but I'm not complaining, I mean, it's my break, but fuck, this may as well be homework. For those who don't know, Stalag 324 was a camp designed to hold the Soviet prisoners. As there's very little information on these camps, it was very close to Grądy, Poland, around 28,444 Soviet POWs were kept there. Most of them were put to work or died from sickness or starvation. In coming chapters, I want to go into detail about Stalag 350 in Riga, Latvia. Here's a short snippet from Wiki about 350. 
> 
> "According to a 1944 Soviet report, 43,000 captured Red Army personnel were either killed or died from diseases and starvation at this camp near Riga.[21] The prisoners were used for the construction of Salaspils concentration camp in October 1941." Just so the story doesn't get confusing, at the end of *this* chapter Misha and Mikhail are in Poland. I should probably make a timeline just so /I/ don't get lost xD 
> 
> Anyhow, enjoy the story!

Misha knew fear and she knew bravery, that was one thing she prided herself on. She was fearless because she needed to be, and that was something she almost regretted. Through life, she struggled, like anyone would. But she was different, she never valued her own life. 

 

She was expendable, she saw herself as a pawn in a war game, and in a sense, she was. She didn’t care. But right now all she wanted was blood, whether her’s was spilled in the process didn’t changer her goals. With heavy boots on the ground, she could hear the sounds of her countrymen, heavy tanks rolling into the ground, she was sure she’d catch up. With men on the ground marching behind, she began to sprint to the men and women, holding her rifle along the way.  She saw them stop and began to alert each other another soldier was only meters away.“You’re missing someone.” she called, a grin forming on her face, she was so happy to see her troops again. “Misha!” called a soldier, ushering her to come closer. “Where the hell did you go? We thought you died!” 

 

“I’ll never die, not before this damned war is over.” she leaned into the man, out of breath and gripping her leg. “Misha, you need to get inside the tank, are you loaded?” 

 

“Da, always. My trigger finger is itching, I’ll tell you more inside.” The man, well, sniper Anton, climbed up the tank and pulled the woman up with him. Slipping inside, Misha seemed out of breath and weak, broken in a sweat, she shook her hands off and leaned into the seat. “Volkova, you don’t look well. What happened? We have medics.” Anton said, placing his hand on her leg. “I was shot, Lieutenant Volkov sent us out and I was the only survivor, I found a doctor in the forest and he patched my leg up, not sure how well. Either way, I'll be damned if I let my comrades run into a cockroach-infested battlefield, I won’t allow it.” Misha was determined, that was for sure. As long as there is a sun in any sky, she would push on. Now, she wasn’t a person, yet a machine. A living, breathing machine. “You need water,” Anton grabbed his water canister and handed it to her, she took small sips, the cold water refreshing her body. Now, she was weak. She tossed him the water and leaned her head on the metal walls of the war machine. “Right now, I have a stitched leg, but that doesn’t mean I want you to treat me like a kitten, I want orders just like anyone else here. Wounded or not, I’m still a soldier on a mission.” Anton nodded at her words before loud blasts could be heard outside, flying bullets and battle cries from the outside. Without order, the sniper knew what she needed to do. She jumped to her feet and grabbed Anton’s hand. “Gotov?” she asked, gripping his hand harder than began. “Da! For the motherland!” With those words, the two readied their rifles and made their way to the front of the tank, they waited once the bullets went quiet to make a quick escape. “Teper!” They quickly opened the hatch of the machine and jumped down, Misha was second to jump. When she landed on the ground, Anton was there to catch her hand and help her regain balance. Right outside the walls of Minsk, both Soviet and German troops were under fire. Misha looked around for a safe spot to start the hunt. She grabbed Anton’s hand and darted behind a stone wall, just tall enough for her to rest her gun on. “Cover behind me.” she barked, pressing her eye into the scope. She could see into the city, troops of both sides making their way deeper into the city. 

 

One by one, she shot them down like deranged beasts, her bullets kissing their skull and sending them to meet their own makers. She felt nothing in that moment, only a robotic motion one bullet after another. Volkova could see a few of her men struggling behind buildings, despite being far away, she covered them. Perhaps it was sadistic but she made a tune from her shots, it kept her in perfect rhythm. “We need to move up, deeper in the city! Come now, Anton!” she hoisted herself over the bank and could hear the sounds of gunfire ring even closer to her ears. She cursed under her breath, gripping the one thing that protected her this whole time: her bullet pouch. She faced away from the city, her countrymen firing from tanks as she heaved. She couldn’t tell if they were winning the fight or not, but right now, she only cared about getting her team to safety. 

 

It felt like hours when it was only a few moments, Misha went around the city wall, in hopes of scaling it up to better cover her comrades. Anton quickly caught up to her, confused why she went around. “Volkova, what are you doing?!” “Shut up and give me a damn boost!” With her words, Anton took a stance, putting his hand outs, left under the right, waiting for her running start. As she jumped into his hands, he pushed her up. 

 

Her plan took a sour turn when she grabbed onto the wall’s edge but struggled to pull herself up. Keeping her head down, she slowly made her way up the wall, only meters away from an empty watchtower, it was perfect. “Come on, Little Red!” Anton cheered her on, as she pushed unto the wall with the tip of her boot. Finally, she made it up. Still lying down, she extended her hand to him. “I’ve got you, just trust me!” Her words were all true, she was an easy woman to trust, as she hated liars. He jumped and grabbed her hand, she pulled him up like he was a feather. A bullet flew right between their heads and Misha could not help to laugh at the sniper’s poor skills. 

She crawled to the tower and seemed weak, Anton looked worried. “Aye, don’t say it, just shoot.” There was enough room for the both of them to snipe, so they did. A perfect team, they fired into the city like war hawks. “I see Mikhail and his brigade, I have to cover him!” 

 

“Misha, don’t leave this spot! You’re wanting a death wish. “And I’ll seek a death wish if my only family dies. Stay here and shoot, dammit!” Misha was smart, but she was reckless when it came to her brother. Anyone who dared fire at him would be seeking a bullet from his younger half. Along the watch wall she raced, she scaled the wall, she tripped when she made her way to the top. Meters away there was another tower, she bolted and slid into the tower, scrapping her leg under her thick britches. She mounted her rifle again, finding her brother and his brigade. Bullets were flying from her side as they slowly made their way inside. Volkov sent his men inside, checking the buildings for survivors or enemies. Her aim was clean and spot on, bullets cracking skulls, bodies building up. Misha was determined to keep them safe, even if it meant putting herself in harm’s way. 

 

All the progress they made failed when another army of Germans stormed in, taking the rest of the city in a matter of minutes. She watched her life flash before her eyes, fear, and rage running through her veins. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she cursed, quickly reloading her weapon. She’d be damned if she didn’t try and fight her way out of this. Soon she could not tell which was friend or foe which lead her to a different spot along the wall. She’d be useless if she was on the ground. She knew this wasn’t going to end well when most of the guns became silent. She looked down to see her friends all dead once again, some barely alive, others clinging to life when buildings had fallen on their legs. It didn’t take her long to realize more German troops would be coming, She’d be arrested or worse. 

 

She found herself left in a silence again, just like before when it was just her in the middle of a field. She refused to let it all go, nothing would stand in her way. She needed to find her brother, that was the only thing on her mind. Misha could see the troops about half a mile away. There was still a chance. 

 

Along the ladder she went, sliding down the last few pegs, she was inside the city. She saw her own tanks, hoping to find someone with the same badge. She leaned against the machine, a wave of dizziness coming over her. She looked down and saw her pants were soaked in blood, her stitches had ripped. She didn’t realize how weak she was until she stopped running. To her luck, on the other side of the machine, resided her other half, her brother. 

She was surprised to see him standing still. “Brother…” she said weakly. He turned his head to her and went to catch her when she lost her balance. “Misha, Misha, what the hell happened?!” 

 

“My… stitches… ripped.  What’s going on, I can’t-” 

“Shh, don’t talk, I’m going to get you out of here, I don’t care what it takes. I have to get you out of here, the Germans will be here any moment and all of us are going to be shot on sight or arrested. Which do you prefer? Now, up you go.” the blonde slid his hand under her leg and hoisted her up, carrying her bridal style. “You need to get out of here, we stand no chance.” She weakly lifted her hand to his face and wiped the fresh blood from his cheek. “If there’s a chance you’ll die if you keep carrying me, I want you to drop me.” 

 

“Misha! I’m not leaving you, damn you! These fascists can take my life, my country, everything! But they won’t take you, not without a fight.” He was so close to the front gates when the last troops arrived. There he stood, his sister in his arms, in front of at least 100 men. “Check the buildings for survivors, imprison the useful Soviets, kill the rest.” The General spoke, sending a few of his men to finish up. Misha looked at him in the eyes, she was filled with disgust and rage. “Is this the lieutenant and the famous little sister?” he asked, lifting a brow. Misha’s eyes turned into slits. Mikhail, for once had a helpless look on his face. His brow was furrowed and he gripped his sister tighter than ever. “No matter, take them both.” Two men began to walk towards them and the blonde slowly backed away. Misha slowly reached for the knife strapped to his leg. One of the men began to coax them over like they were dogs, why waste a bullet when they’re both weak. Quickly, Misha ripped the knife from its sleeve and flung it at the man coming closer to them. “ _ Fuck your mother, you Nazi scum!”  _ she hissed in her native tongue as the knife hit his foot. The thickness of the boot protected his skin so he ripped the knife out and threw it into the bushes. “Ahg! Enough games, take them now!” 

 

And with that, both men grabbed Mikhail, pinning his hands behind his back and Misha fell to the ground and gripped her leg in agony. “Don’t touch me, you worm!” she kicked with her uninjured leg, one of the men pinned her leg down while the other pinned her arms and got her to her feet. “Hurt her and I swear I’ll burn your country to the ground!” He screamed at the top of his lungs as she was dragged away. Her leg so weak it dragged the ground. She looked up at him as he watched her be dragged into the transporting vehicle. She didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. She smiled at him the entire time, her face giving him a strip of hope. Her eyes didn’t change, her bloodied face was still bright, she wouldn’t give up. Mikhail growled like a wolf and stomped on the soldier’s foot as hard as he could, thrashing around with such desperation in his eyes. “MISHA!” Tears rested in the corners of his eyes, he was helpless, the once fearless and intimidating commander was on the verge of tears, watching his only family being dragged away.   **_“DON’T YOU DARE HARM HER, YOU FILTHY BASTARDS!”_ ** Misha could hear him screaming at the top of his lungs, she was barely able to hold her own head up. ‘ _ Mikhail, please don’t do this, I’m begging you, don’t get yourself killed because of me.” the woman thought to herself before she was thrown like a doll into the back of a truck. She looked up at the sun, thinking it would be her last. She knew what she signed up for, she couldn’t complain about her pains because she knew this would happen.  _

 

“Take them back, you know what to do, take them to Stalag 324.” Mikhail spat on the ground in front of the general. “ _ You think this is it?! HUH?! You will fall and I will make you kiss the dirt of my homeland!” Mikhail was only seeing blind, unfiltered rage. “I’m finished with him, take him out.”  _

 

_ Mikhail’s eyes shot open when he saw another military man pull out his rifle.  _

 

_ ‘Am I going to die? Here?’ he thought to himself, his entire life flashing before his own eyes. He stopped thrashing, but he did not give up. He wasn’t afraid of dying, he welcomed it every day but never expected it. ‘I can’t, no, not like this.’ The blonde looked at them with fiery eyes, fierceness, and  dignity shining right out of his irises.  _

 

_ He felt a heavy bang to the side of the head and he passed out as the man lowered the but of his rifle.  _

 

_ There he was, passed out in the grips of the enemy. Misha lied on the back of the truck, weak and barely moving. She had failed herself and her very people, the same people she risked her life to protect. She gripped the sides of the truck and pulled herself up, watching her own brother be tossed into a truck meters away. Misha was lost in her own loneliness, she was alone and thought she would die there. Looking down at her leg, she saw the stitches covered in dirt and dried blood as they pulled on her skin. She didn’t want to cry or even scream.  _

 

_ That’s what made her and Mikhail so different. _

_ He was an emotional man, while Misha was stone cold. She never cried or showed signs of pain unless it was extreme. Mikhail was sugar, openly kind and compassionate, in times like this, he was cold. It had been so long since she saw him smile or even laugh for that matter. The war took away his compassion, he was a walking dead man. His smiles were never like that of sunshine, his laughs were short and seemed to be strained. His heart was charred black, empty and cold. His kindness hid under that, he feared if it showed in these times, he would be mistaken as weak and that was something he could not have. When they were young, Misha was quiet while Mikhail caused mischief. Misha was a victim of harsh bullying and Mikhail wasn’t afraid to throw a few punches, even when they were simple children. She would run into the arms of her older brother and sob until he told her how to throw a punch without him there. He feared one day he couldn’t protect her.  _

 

_ And finally that day came, that damned, dreaded day came with an ugly roar, a roar so loud it shook the mountains within them both. Misha was so close to crying in her palms, as much as she hated crying, her body was overrun with feelings. As she drove by the marching armies, more truckloads of her friends, she wailed. Her face was hidden in her palms as she heaved, tears freely running down her cheeks. That was all she could do.  _

 

_ Was just cry.  _

_ What more could she do? It would be foolish to escape with a possibly infected leg. Everything was ripped away from her, her pride, her dignity, her shining confidence.  _

 

_ Both she and her brother were children of war and they saw it up close and personal. War’s embrace made itself comfortable in their lives and they both knew it wouldn’t go anywhere.  _

 

_ But perhaps a wicked surprise would be in store for them both?    _


	3. Prisoners of War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I wrote this in 2 days and *actually* like it. 
> 
> A good half of this is a flashback in the form of a dream, so, forgive me if you don't like cliche flashbacks <_<  
> I used real military moves in this, but as I am American, I had to use Marine and Navy SEAL moves, but I assume they're universal!
> 
> Also a very very big thank you to Schatten_Und_Licht for helping me with the Russian used here !! <3

Stalag 324, a cold, dreary camp in Grady where prisoners of war were kept in horrible conditions. Rodents ran around for warmth, often biting the inmates and spreading sickness, well even more. Bodies were not contained properly, it would take them days or even weeks to haul them out, Beds were thin sheets over the stone floors, food was stale bread and filthy water. God forbid someone needed medical attention, if the guards were feeling nice and found the wounded person to be of use, they would give you the bare minimum, but people took what they could.

Nikolay got lucky with his medical degree.  
Once his cabin was raided, they discovered he could be of great use, though his living conditions were nothing less of a hard floor to sleep on and the possibly moldy bread. It had been three days since the attack on Minsk, the city was taken over and became Nazi-held land. The Volkov siblings were in their cells, Misha still sleeping as Mikhail watched from a cell over. He didn’t sleep all night, he was drained of energy but could not leave her without his hawk eyes. She was quiet as she slept, her body fighting to stay alive. Her wound worsened, she knew she’d lose it if she didn’t get the help she desperately needed. It was obvious she was sickly, dying even. Mikhail was so close to her but was so far. Just out of arm’s reach. He pushed his golden locks out of his face and saw her stir in her slumber, a glimmer of hope in his eyes showing.  
But he really hoped she didn’t wake up, he’d rather her die of infection than starvation or be used for an experiment.

Mikhail’s face was glued to his younger half, only waiting for her to stop moving.  
“What’s your name, friend?” asked a prisoner beside him in another cell.  
“Mikhail Volkov,” he replied, turning his head to the man.  
“Didn’t you leade the take on Minsk?”  
“Da. Why ask, comrade?”  
“I used to live there until, well, this happened. You did a good job.” The blonde was surprised by his words, he raised his brow and chuckled. “Well, thank you, I only wish we didn’t fail.”

Before the man could reply, both their eyes moved to the sound of heavy boots on the ground. Mikhail looked over at Misha, still sleeping. The guards threw slices of bread into the cells, leaving them to fight over the rations. “Is she dead?” asked one guard, walking to Misha’s cell. He hit the bars with his baton and watched her lift her head only to have her drop it again. “She will be,” he commented. Once the two left, Mikhail crawled to his bars.

“Misha, Misha, wake up. You need to eat.”  
He only heard her groan. “Damn it! Misha, I know you can hear me. Don’t you dare give up, don’t you dare! I know you can lift that pretty head up, please.”

Misha rolled over on her side and heaved, harsh coughs escaping her lungs. He watched her begin to rise, pushing herself up with her dirt-stained hands. Smiling widely, he flung the slice of bread through her bars. It landed in front of her and she devoured it, forgetting how hungry she really was. “Maybe if you call me pretty again I’ll rise back to life,” she jested weakly. “What’s going to happen to me?” she asked.

“I don’t know, but I think someone is going to help you soon.”  
“Who?”  
“Nikolay, you know him.”  
“Wait, he’s here?!” her voice changed immediately, from weak and soft to worried and protective. Despite her wound, she’d protect a dear one, even if her fight was futile.

“Yes, yes, he is. They throw him here after dark, he’s a doctor during the day. He told me he’d help you. Just hold on a little more.”

Misha had never seen her brother with such a delicate face, eyes large and bambi, full of hope and perhaps even happiness. She smiled and reached her hands under the bar to hopefully feel his hand. He reached out to her and they were able to interlace their fingers. “Just… hold on, Misha. You’ll get through this, I promise.”

And soon evening fell, the cold filled the cell blocks. Again, Misha fell asleep.  
“Misha,” a gentle voice whispered in her ear. She turned her head to see Nikolay and Mikhail sitting beside her. In his hand, he held a bottle of vodka, a needle, semi-clean cloth, and scissors.

“I need you to be, very, very quiet, okay? Please, I’m begging you. If they hear, all of us will be punished.”

Misha nodded. Mikhail pulled her closer to the moonlight, giving the doctor a bright light to work with. Still in her uniform, as the guards didn’t bother giving them rags to wear, she slipped her pants down to her knees and looked at the infected wound, stitches on the verge of falling off. Nikolay doused his hands in the drink. “Mikhail, give her your belt and muffle her mouth.”

Mikhail pulled his belt and folded it over itself so she could bite down. He pulled his sleeve over his hand and pressed into her mouth. She looked into his eyes, he looked back at her with a mixture of comfort and fear, he hated seeing her in such pain. She felt her stitches loosen as the doctor cut them, pulling them from her skin. He poured the vodka in her wound and her calm reaction quickly turned into a terrified look in her eyes, her jaw hurting as she bit the leather. Her hands began to spasm, tendons bulging under her skin. Mikhail gripped her hand with his and tried his best to muffle her agony. The vodka burned more than anything she could imagine, the coolness of the evaporation burned like ice sticking to hot skin. She gripped her brother’s hand too tightly his muscles began to ache.

As he poured more into his hands, he prepares his needle and thread. Misha’s eyes were filled with pain, she screamed into the sleeve of her brother as her eyes began to drip tears from the sheer amounts of pain. She exhaled heavily, nostrils flaring like a show horse, her eyes were pinched shut. Mikhail kissed her forehead and began to whisper in her ear.

“Even if it was futile, I prayed for you not suffer even though I don’t believe in god.” his words were weak and even surprised Misha. They alone were enough to make her cry. She threw her arm around him and held him tightly like it was the last thing she’d ever do.

 

Nikolay began to bring the flesh together, stitching it with tenderness and care. Misha’s eyes began to close from the sleepiness that was now over her. Mikhail still leaned down beside her, rubbing her hair to coo her to sleep. “Just go to sleep, Misha.” The woman’s eyes were weak, barely open at this point. “Almost done, Misha,” Nikolay whispered as he finished the last threads.

Once she fell asleep, Nikolay was finished on her wound. Good as new, but her risk of infection was still very high. She was exhausted, Mikhail didn’t want to leave her alone. “I stole a key off the guard, I want you to go back in your cell and act like nothing happened, da?”

“Da.” Mikhail fixed her clothes and removed the belt from her lips. He kissed her cheek before leaving her. Mikhail looked out his cell window and admired the moon, he partly blamed himself for this. His baby sister was on the sweet doorstep of death and hated that.

His baby sister  
His other half  
The little girl who he so wanted to protect; but he knew he didn’t have to. That once baby sister grew into a blossom, beautiful and strong, she was perfect to him. He looked at her and felt tears began to roll down his pale cheeks.

Again, he wanted to pray even if it was for nothing. He just wanted to go home, but that place didn’t exist anymore. He’d give anything to kiss her again, to clean her knee scrapes. Anything.

_If I could turn back time, he thought._  
_I’d give you a different life._  
_I would lavish you with flowers and books which you adore to read. I wouldn’t give you the heavy burden of a gun._

She was a bird in the iron cage of war, her wings ripped off and thrown into the flames. Misha wasn’t just a sister to him; she was his entire world. He loved only three things in life:  
His country  
His sister  
His AK

Yes, in that order. Nothing came between them.  
But he figured sleep wouldn’t kill him…

In his dreams, he was truly happy.

_“Mikhail, can you come here?”_  
_“What do you need, Misha?”_

_She pointed to the top of her bookshelf. “Someone, who I wonder_ whom _put my slippers on the top. Do you know anyone who keeps shoes on a bookshelf?_

_“You do, apparently.”_

_She rolled her eyes and playfully punched his arm. “Just get them down, will you? I should make you slip them on like I’m Cinderella…” she retorted, sitting in the chair beside her. “Alright, Little Red.” He teased, reaching the shoes with little effort. He got down on one knee and gently slipped the shoe on, watching her chuckle. “Thank you, will you stop putting my slippers where they don’t belong? Lest I’ll put something of yours in… well somewhere.”_

_“Oh really? Like what?”_  
_“I can’t tell you or you’ll simply hide it from me.”_

_The blonde smiled. “You just don’t know.”_

_“I do! Shut up, Mikhail. I know everything.”_

_“I know.”_

_She crossed her arms and tried to fight back a smile when he embraced her. “May you come into town with me? Your company isn’t terrible.”_

_“I could say the same about you.”_  
_“Would you?”_  
_“Yes.”_

_Misha rolled her eyes. “Let me change, okay? I’ll be out in a moment.”_  
_“Of course.”_

_Around 20 minutes later, Misha walked out of the home looking quite lavish in her knee-length dress with a plain black blazer. “You look very pretty, Misha.”_

_“Thank you.” She said sincerely._

_Mikhail was a plain gentleman, no questions asked._

_So like any gentleman, he opened the front door for her and held her hands as she went down the steps. “Where are we going?” He asked._

_“Just out, I was thinking we could go to lunch? I don’t really feel like cooking right now.”_

_“We could. We could always visit the pond and feed the ducks, that’s always fun.”_

_“Indeed, and you seem happy today.”_  
_“I’m happy I’m off duty for once.”_  
_“Well, I’m no military woman. Perhaps one day.”_  
_“If you joined, I’d keep you safe.”_  
_“I’m aware, my dear. Let’s go, da?”_

_Times were so different. Misha didn’t expect her life to take such a sudden turn. But of course, she didn’t think her father would die._

_To the library they went, Misha’s heels clicked against the stone paths, Mikhail following behind like a puppy. “What do you have in mind for lunch?” he asked, standing outside the grand building. She tapped her chin, blood red lips pursing together. “Perhaps Aragvi? It’s quite nice.”_

_“Your wish, Little Red.”_

_He opened the door for her and scanned the environment of the library and ran his hands along the aged books. “I’m going upstairs, find me, okay?”_

  
_He nodded and watched her race up the steps, bag over her shoulder. She scanned the shelves and pulled out ‘Alexander Afanasyev’s Russian fairy tales.” she flipped the page open to where she left her thin string of twine. She left Mikhail to her own devices, know he’d enjoy looking around, he was always a curious man._

_An hour had passed and she felt a light tap on her shoulder. “Hm?” “Are you ready? Why not check the book out?”_

_“You know I'll forget it under my bed.”_  
_“Fair point. But, we should go if we want to make lunch.”_

_And with that, he escorted her into the street and felt the eyes of piggish folk follow the movements of Misha. She was beautiful, no doubt, though he still didn’t enjoy people looking at her like she was a slab of meat._

_With hair black as night, she kept it pulled up in tights buns and luscious curls bouncing over her shoulders. Looking so much different from her brother, his hair_ looks _like spun gold. Eyes large like a deer, irises resembling a deep ocean. His skin was pale and covered in scars, some from the flames of war or from him acting like a damn fool. Nonetheless, he was quite popular among the ladies. Misha teased him on that fact, he enjoyed acting oblivious to the fact that he was a dashing man._

 _A loud wolf whistle escaped the lips of a young fellow standing on the side of the street, ivory smoke escaping his lips. Misha ignored such an act and glanced over to Mikhail. “Tiresome.” she groaned. The man finding_ insult _to her ignoring_ him, _called her over. “Go away.” she hissed. Mikhail now looking annoyed, glanced at the man jogging over. Misha stopped in her tracks and furrowed her brow. Mikhail’s eyes turned hard and dangerous, his simple gaze striking fear into most people, only if he wanted it to. He wasn’t purposely intimidating, his appearance made that quite easy. Standing tall, well over Misha, he was a whopping 6 foot 4, or 193CM, donned his military jacket over casual attire. He let Misha handle her own problem unless she seemed visibly uncomfortable or fearful. Looking very unimpressed, she crossed her arms over her jacketed chest. “Did you not hear me? Ukhodi. Didn’t I tell you that?” she hissed. Mikhail purposely turned his jacket to the man’s direction, eyes turning to narrow slits. His badge was enough to make the man back off. “May I?” he whispered to the woman. “Please,” she rolled her eyes. And just like that, she sent her wolf_ loose _on the man who dared look at her the wrong way. “I don’t want any trouble,” he said, his tone now getting hostile._

 _“Is Ukhodi not in your vocabulary or something? I really don’t want her to repeat herself, so if you want, I can say it for you.” he hissed, walking into the man. “Don’t even think about throwing a punch,” he said, watching him ball a fist. “I’ll tell you one more time: Ukhodi,_ cyka _.”_

_“Come, Mikhail, you can’t always speak reason to blind men.” her words hit hard yet her tone was cold. Mikhail looked back at her and gestured for her to walk in front. She did look back to see Mikhail following her, still looking really annoyed. “Something bothering you?”_

_“That bastard is just standing there. Does he often do this?”_  
_“Only a few times, though he seemed to be unaware I had an oh-so-scary brother.”_

_“I’m scary?”_  
_“A little, to those who don’t know you.”_  
_“That good?”_  
_“Quite, just in case I don’t feel like dropping everything to throw a punch.”_

_Mikhail laughed and put his arm around her shoulder. “Ahh, haha, my dear little sister,” he kissed her hair and took her satchel from her hands. “I’ll hold your bag-” he cut himself off with his own laughter._

_“Mikhail, I don’t see what’s so amusing to you,” she started off straight and cold but his chuckle made her break out too. “Come on, you big oaf, stop laughing!” she playfully slapped his arm. “It’s just that I’d pay to see you throw a punch.”_

_“Remember how you always said ‘punch me as hard as you can!’? I might take that offer right about now if you don’t stop laughing.”_

_“Oh, challenge accepted, Misha.”_

_She smirked._

_“Alright, how about this, if you’re so confident: I help you with your hand to hand combat, if I can throw you to the ground, you buy dinner. If you win, I’ll buy dinner. Sound fair?”_

_“Fair enough, but let’s go home first so the police don’t think you’re assaulting a serviceman.”_  
_And home they went, nudging each other the whole way. “Let me change, I’d rather not fight in a dress.”_

_He rolled his eyes._

_“Guess I should too,” he muttered to himself. So he did, into a plain undershirt he pulled over his head, he pulled the hem over his military pants. He walked into his training room, he spent most of his time in that place._

_Out Misha came, dressed in a pair of black pants, the hems pushed into her boots. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, every single button was done giving her a very posh look. “Alright, little sister, you know basic moves, da? I’ve told you such things.”_

_“I do, yes! But I really just want to punch you in the jaw, is all,” she said playfully, ringing her fingers out. “Then hit me! You’re fast but I can dodge,” he teased, lifting a brow Misha rolled her shoulders and took a few steps closer to him. “You’re paying,” she said before throwing a punch at the man._

_He grabbed her wrist and twist her arm behind her back. She looked up at him and grinned. “Am I buying,_ laposhka _?”_

_She knew his game well. “Oh, you are, are we playing fair, by the way?”_

_“A little.”_

_He let her go and went back to his base. “I can tell you WANT to punch me, but you can work for it. I’m going to swing at you and I want you to dismantle it, da?”_

_She nodded._

_So Mikhail wiggled his fingers and brought his hands close to his face. “Ready?”_

_“Just punch me, Mikhail,” she said with a heavy chuckle. But he changed things up._

_He grabbed her shirt and tried to push her away, she planted herself on the wooden floors. As his arms were extended, she grabbed his hand and twisted his palm towards him, locking his wrist in place. He looked down at her trick and grinned. “Good job,” he said, biting his lip as he thought of a new way to trick her. He slid his leg under her foot and she lost her footing. “Damn!” she hissed, rubbing her knee as she got up._

_They spent about an hour training, Misha was learning to skills very quickly but couldn’t manage to throw him to the ground how she planned. Both broken out in sweats, Misha began to heave when she blocked his attacks and landed a punch to his jaw, not very hard but it counted. “Damn you, no wonder you’re lieutenant.”_

_“Thanks for noticing,” he joked, cutting off the practice. “How about we both pay as we both got whooped.” Misha laughed and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Fairpoint, fair point. Let’s wash up before we leave.”_

_“You go first.”_

And just like that, it all ended. His sweet slumber came to a rude ending when he heard the bashing of bars. “Riiiiise and shine, prisoners. Now that everyone is settled, why not do a little work! Be ready in a quarter!” Mikhail groaned as he looked over at Misha who seemed brighter. “Morning,” she said to him, looking down at her leg. “Putting us to work because they’re much too lazy to make their own clothes? Typical…” She scoffed and put her eyes back on her other half. “How’d you sleep?”

“Decent,” he replied sheepishly.  
“Me too, I had a weird dream, though.”  
He paused his entire dream, more like flashback replayed.

“I see you’re worried, we’ll be alright, just like always.”

She reached her hands under the bar and smiled, feeling their skin touch. “Just remember: we will get out of this damned place.”

Mikhail smiled weakly, admiring her optimism.

“But, come now, lest we aren’t ready for their harping…” 


	4. American Delight

America was in turmoil much like the Russians during this time, every preacher’s son rushing to fight, daughters praying for their fathers and brothers, some wanting to follow along. But one woman stood out, she wasn’t crying, nor holding her hands to the heavens for an answer. 

  
  


She took her own action. While, during this time, women had not been able to serve, she helped in other ways. 

  
  


_ Scarlett Rose.  _

_ A southern beauty from Tennessee, red lips, dark hair, and such a pretty face.  _

_ But looks can be deceiving, you see.  _

  
  


_ Deeply renowned for her kindness and hospitality, she was also renowned for her brutality.  _

  
  


“You think you belong here, young man?” she asked the man, her lips curling into a faint smile. The man shivered on the stool with a bag over his head. “You see, I ain’t got a problem with anybody. But what I got a problem with is  _ racists. _ ” she hissed, walking around the man, waiting to kick the stool from under his feet. “You really love doing this to people a little darker than you, and you know, my daddy and I really hate people like you. But sadly, my daddy ain’t here...” A rope was wrapped around his neck, snuggling wrapped like a cozy blanket. She jumped up to rip the bag from his head and saw him drenched in sweat, rage filling his eyes. She looked over at her companion and grinned. **_“No preacher can save that filthy soul.”_ **

  
  


With a swift kick, she knocked the stool several feet away and listened to the satisfying crack of bones in his neck. Scarlett walked over to the pile of Klan robes which she ripped from the gentlemen she just executed. “Taking the trash out,” she muttered, lighting a cigarette between her lips, she then tossed the match on the pile of white robes and basked in the warmth, the flames flickering in her ocean colored eyes. 

  
  


Scarlett was a kind woman, hospitality so great she’d give the skin on her back. Daughter of a preacher, she was deeply religious and went to church every Sunday, prayed before bed, and before every meal. She loved dancing, kissing under the stars and loved making some bitchin’ sweet tea. 

  
  


During the day, she ran a diner, during the night, she spent her night crashing Klan rallies and finding any Nazi sympathizers and giving them the proper treatment. Only a night before, she was enjoying a smoke by the fire. 

  
  


_ America, Tennessee, Early Winter 1941.  _

 

“What can I get for you, sugar?” she asked the handsome man who just walked in the diner, donning a long, black coat and a trilby. “You know the usual, darlin’, flapjacks and a side of sunny side up eggs.” 

 

“You got it, cowboy,” she replied happily, trotting back to her beloved kitchen. 

  
  


She began to prepare the breakfast, adding a touch of love with every flip and twist. 

When she brought out the plate, he smirked at her and noticed something different from, his usual order. “You gave me extra, didn’t you?” 

  
  


“Of course I did, you haven’t been ‘ere long have ya?” 

“Only a year, I gotta say, I miss New York.” 

“Aw, poor baby, I’ll just bring the taste of Yonker in my kitchen. 

“Can’t do that even if you tried.” 

“You challenging me?” 

“Hah, maybe I am, how ‘bout it, whip up a cheesesteak and I’ll stick around with you, help you with whatever you need.” 

  
  


She crossed her arms and lifted a brow. “Fair enough. Give me ten minutes.” 

  
  


He smiled widely and watched her walk off into her kitchen. “Damn, she sure is a beauty,” he whispered to himself. The man listened to the music playing over the radio, humming to himself the entire time. 

  
  


From New York to down south, 

Xavier Valentine migrated to the south only a year ago for a case, once he found the girl he figures he stay in the area for a while… or a year. 

  
  


Valentine was an impulsive alcoholic with a pretty face - smart as a whip, and dangerously charming. Working as a detective most of his life, he developed a taste for secrecy. He became fond of Scarlett over the months he spent with her, helping her with her own dirty work. He was the heavy-handed law with a weak spot for those who took justice into their own hands. “One cheesesteak for you, city boy.” She said, sliding the delicious looking sandwich towards the man. “Aye, maybe you can bring the city back, babe.”

  
  
  


“I can do many things, stick around and you’ll find out.”

“I know you’re damn good at lynching klansman.” She lifted a brow. “And I’m good at cleaning up your tracks. Your earring fell out on the scene. I got it back for you.” He reached into his pocket and handed her a pearl earring. “Ah, thank you, Val, but listen here, you are good at cleaning up my work. Kisses for you, sunshine.” 

  
  


Val chuckled and perked his brow at the maiden, I take it you’ll join up the army in December?”

“How do you figure?” 

“Because I know that pretty preacher’s baby girl would like a gun in those hands.” 

  
  


Scar shrugged. “I know you’ll join because you gotta.” “I’ll miss you.” 

  
  


He nodded and took a bite of the food. “Enjoy your meal, country boy, I gotta get this call.”

  
  


She rushed to her office and answered the phone.

 

“Yellow!”

“Hey, sweetie! Are you coming to practice tonight?”

“Certainly, Val will take me.” 

“Oh, he’s an angel. Can’t wait to see you, baby!”

“See you soon, mom!” 

  
  


When she walked back to the front of the diner, she saw Val gazing out the window. “Hey, Val, can you take me to church this evening?” She asked gently, sitting in front of him. “Sure thing, you singing?” “Yep”

 

He smiled and pushed the plate to her. “I’ll pick you up, alright, Miss American Pie?” 

 

“Sounds good. Val. See you soon.” She kisses his cheek and watched him walk out, plopping his trilby back on. Scar waved goodbye to him. 

 

Scar leaned on the glass and began to hum her. 

But her mind was racing to December, she couldn’t wait to join up. But while she was a civilian, she’d do her part.

  
  


She was still recovering from the attack on Pearl Harbor and the theft of her father who was only a preacher. 

 

Sent to English soil to team up with them, the thought broke her heart into a million pieces. She hated thinking about it, part of Scar wanted revenge on the enemy, and the other half of her wanted to support her mother and family in the states. 

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she thought about the attack. She leaned onto the table and inhaled deeply. “Please, God… give me the strength to fight on. Amen…”  

  
  


_ Back to Stalag 324.  _

 

Put to work, Misha and Mikhail worked their fingers to the bone to stay alive. Her leg had healed, she was now fighting harder than before. She seemed more… hostile than usual and Mikhail knew this wasn’t the usual anger she had when she worked. As they mined the coal, Misha was pounding away at the rocks, taking out all her anger and frustration. Mikhail carried on as well, his muscles aching from the mining. Misha had been going all night as the guards didn’t bother to stop them. “I can not wait to leave this vile place.” she hissed, wiping the sweat from her brow. “I’ll make them run like the cockroaches they are.” her words held her desires and she wouldn’t let it slide. With eyes as sharp as knives, he glanced over at her and could see the obvious pain on her face. “You look tired, I’ll do the rest of your work. Just sit down, Misha.” She stopped smashing at the rocks and coughed, squeezing her chest as she caught her breath. “Fine,” she said flatly, she took his hand and he guided her a few feet away from the hot spot and watched her fall to her knees from tiredness. 

 

Mikhail went back to work, covered in sweat and dirt, his face covered in charcoal dust. He ended up breaking the pickaxe and he lost his cool in a fit of anger. “Son of a bitch!” he hissed, throwing the broken handle at the ground. “Stay here, Misha. Hopefully one of these lazy bastards will get me another tool.” Misha grabbed his hand as he stormed by her, “I can come with you.” 

 

“No, no you can’t. Stay put, don’t leave this spot.” Misha was a stubborn girl but she trusted Mikhail when he kept her from following. “Fine.” 

 

Mikhail winked at her and walked out of the mines into the cold, snow sticking to his pale skin. “Aye, guardsman, an ax broke. Where can I find another one?” 

 

“You broke it? So fix it.” 

“I can’t do that inside a fucking mine. Do you want me to work for you or not? So tell me, where can I find another?” 

“Watch your mouth, Soviet. Fix your tool with what you have, or use your hands.”  

 

‘ _ I should kill him with my hands, that little bastard.’  _

“Fine.” 

 

The blonde stormed off into the mines again and Misha knew his attempt would be futile. “What’d he say?” 

 

“You know the answer to that.” 

“I’ll ask if you like.” 

“Oh, what will you do?” 

“Shut up and find out, Mikhail. I know where they store them.” 

“Don’t you dare get  caught.” 

She smiled and kissed his cheek. “I won’t, don’t you worry.” Mikhail nodded and kissed her forehead before she left the mines in bare feet, covered in bruises and cuts. She jogged behind the side building and ducked under the window when a guard walked by, paying no mind to the outside. Weaving between the buildings, she lifted the window and slowly climbed in, cringing when the hard, cold ground met her feet. She looked around, crawling under tables to hide any tracks she may leave. There was a sleeping guard right outside the storage room. Misha cursed under her breath. She  _ could kill  _ him right there, but would it be smart? Not really. She looked at the door and then at the guard. Having to think very quickly, Misha thought a blood choke would be the safest way to break in. As most of the guards were in the center building, she could make a quick escape. As she crept to the man, she flexed her fingers and locked her eyes with the man. Her footsteps were quiet, but there was one problem. 

There was a faint trail of her footprints when she walked. She mentally cursed herself. But, now was not the time to worry. She crept behind the chair and slipped her arm under his neck and pulled so tightly his eyes began to strain. A rush of adrenaline began to fill her and she held his neck even as she thrashed around for only a few more seconds. When he stopped moving, she removed her arm from his neck. Impressed with her own work, she darted into the storage room and grabbed everything she needed, including a small loaf of bread. When she saw her tracks she realized her feet began to bleed again. She had no time to worry about it, they’d notice she was gone but they couldn’t figure out who left the prints. She heard keys jingling on another door and she darted out the window, crawling in the slow, hoping it was heavy enough to hide the trail. They would end up confusing themselves as the tracks were everywhere. 

 

She almost lept into Mikhail’s arms when she saw him. She used his shoulders to take some weight off her tired and bloody feet. “I got what you needed, but I had to choke out a guard.” 

 

“Misha! You--!” 

“You what?” 

She knitted her brow at him and watched his cruel scowl turn into a smile. “You… you damned fool,” he said as he hugged her tightly. “You may be a fool but you are my sister and I’m partly responsible.” when she looked up at him, she shoved the bread into his mouth and waited for him to bite. “Bite.” he did and ripped it like a wolf eating meat, it was dry and disgusting but it was something. “Thank you, Misha.”  She smiled and took a bite herself. “It’s vile, but it will do.” 

 

“When we are out, rest assured Aunt Ulga will make us something nice.” 

Misha shrugged. “Or she’ll throw her shoe at you.” 

 

Mikhail rolled his eyes. “Come, let’s get back to work. But, your feet, may I see them?” 

 

She nodded and leaned on the stone walls and lifted her leg up to rest her foot on his leg. With hands so gentle, she looked at the abused flesh and frowned. “Nikolay will help you, he cares for you deeply.” 

 

Misha gave him a half smile. 

 

“And you aren’t bloody and bruised? Show me your hands.”    
Taken back, he looked wounded by the question. “You worry about me but not yourself? Show me your hands.” 

 

He did  as she asked and placed his large, bruised and bloodied hands in hers. She looked at each one of his fingers and nails. “Stop worrying about me, Mikhail.” 

 

Misha held his hands and interlinked their hands and sighed deeply. It wasn’t easy seeing him like this. “Lieutenant Volkov,” she muttered, dropping her arms to her side. “Yes, soldier?” 

 

“Promise me you will clean these wounds, da? There’s vodka around, I won’t let you get an infection like my leg.” 

 

“I promise. Let’s finish this work.” 

“Da…” 

 

Now into the frigid night, Mikhail was fast asleep. 

 

Misha didn’t sleep that night, she shivered in the corner of her cell, hoping she wouldn’t freeze to death in the extreme cold. “Misha, it’s Nikolay,” he whispered, slowly unlocking her cell door. “Nikolay, what are you-?” 

To her surprise, he put his hand over her mouth and gently shushed her. He showed her the bandages. “Be silent, Misha,” he whispered into her ear, his warm breath giving her some comfort. She nodded. 

 

The young doctor poured a decent amount of vodka on her wounds, his hand still over her mouth. It burned the same as before. She gripped his hand and felt his warm skin grow cold under her. 

 

Why was he doing this for her when he could be killed for aiding her? She asked herself that question every day. “Shhh, it will be over soon.” he cooed, feeling tears run down his hand. Misha inhaled deeply and stopped her tears and silenced herself, pushing any and all pain behind her. He dried her feet with a soft touch and delicate touch, behind mindful of her soreness. 

 

He began to wrap them, looking up at her for only a second. “I’m so sorry, Misha,” he whispered, going to her other foot. “I’m sorry you are in pain. Hold on a little while longer,  zvezda moya.” 

 

“It’s… so cold, you must be freezing” 

“I tell no lies… I am cold, but you do not have to worry. Just let me care for you.” 

 

Nikolay eyes were always so soft, Misha admired them from afar when he looked at her. His gaze was tender and like that of an innocent puppy. Misha reached down to take a sip of the hard drink, the only thing to calm her. “Nikolay… tell me something.” 

“Hm?” 

“Why are you helping me so much?” 

“You don’t need a reason to help people, Misha. You should know that more than anyone.” 

 

Misha didn’t reply to that but she was taken back by his next question. “Are you alright?” 

 

“Why do you ask?” 

“I’m concerned.” 

“Don’t be, you’ll only get hurt that way.” 

 

Misha turned her head and refused to look at his eyes. He didn’t deserve it. “Misha, look at me,” he whispered into the night, the moonlight shining on his face, his eyes seeming to shimmer. He gently lifted his hand to her face and cupped her cheek. “Misha, look at me, I need to see your eyes. Trust me, okay?” 

 

She hesitated, not really knowing why she was so afraid to look at him. But she did. 

 

She saw the same light in his eyes like the first day they met in prettier circumstances. He touched her face and pulled the skin around her eyes up and down, seeing the vessels were red and bloodshot. “You look fine, your leg healed well, this is good. You are strong, Misha.” his voice was barely a whisper. 

 

To be honest, he really wanted to kiss her. After everything they’ve been through, he saved her life, nursed her wounds… he cherished her. 

 

When he first met her, she scared him. Now they were in the same place, both stripped of their pride and strength, he could relate to her more. But he knew if he began to care for her too deeply, he would regret his choice. “Rest now, Misha,” Nikolay whispered against her forehead, a pair of gentle lips pressed on her pale skin. The woman weakly brought her hand to his cheek and placed a gentle kiss on his skin. “Thank you for everything, Nikolay…” 

  
  


**_Back down south._ **

 

Miss Rose was dolled up in her best dress and white heels, her finest church clothes. Val was waiting outside her diner and lit a cancer stick. She grabbed her purse and refined her lipstick. “Well, hello Scar.” 

 

“Howdy, Val! How do I look?” she asked, spinning around, her light yellow yellow dress gently flying in the wind. 

 

The man wolf-whistled. 

 

“Damn, you look rockin’, baby.” He bit his lip as she rolled her eyes. “Thank you, sugar, why don’t you step on it so I’m not late, yeah?” 

 

“You got it, hun.” 

 

She stepped into his car and crossed her long, stocking covered legs. His hand hovered over her leg, waiting for a chance to get on her nerves. “Don’t even think about it.” 

 

“Alright, alright…” 

 

He began to drive down the street. “You know, I think I’m going to join the army.” Scar said, looking at herself in the rearview mirror. “Oh? Well if you do, who’s gonna take care of the trash in this city?” 

 

She shrugged. “That’s why I’m thinking…” 

 

“I mean, c’mon, Scar, you just… can’t do both.” 

I know, sunshine. I’m still thinking.” 

 

Once they arrived at the church, Scar hopped outta the car and didn’t bother waiting for her boy. “You coming?” 

 

“Meh, I ain’t the god type.” 

“You don’t have to be, everyone is welcome here, Valentine.” 

“You sure, Rosey? I mean, I don’t think God and I get along.” 

“At least come in to hear me sing!” 

“I can’t say no to that…” 

 

He escorted her into the humble building, all eyes on him. “Good evening, Pastor. Are you doing well?” 

“I am so well, thank you. Who is your friend?” 

“Val?” 

“Name’s Valentine - Xavier Valentine. New York.” 

 

His accent didn’t fit in well but he didn’t feel like God was on his side now. 

“Nice to meet you, Xavier. All faces are welcome here.” 

“Ah.. alright, pal.” 

 

_ Sheesh, never seen such a bold faced liar before, Val thought.  _

 

Scar trotted up the steps, taking a heavy breath in. Val sat in the back, really craving a smoke right about now… He locked eyes onto her like a predator, watching her every movement. 

 

He  _ liked  _ making people nervous. 

 

Scar looked at everyone watching her, the church seats full of loving faces - or so they seemed. 

 

“Hello, everyone. I am so blessed to be here today… Today, a song is dedicated to my daddy, who is serving us right now. I ask you all to keep him in your prayers.” 

 

Scar began... 

  
  


_ “Whisper a prayer in the morning, _

_ Whisper a prayer at noon. _

_ Whisper a prayer in the evening, _

_ He will keep your heart in tune.”  _

 

About an hour had passed and she finished her songs, when she walked down the aisle to meet Val, he wasn’t sitting in his seat. She didn’t see him leave… she walked out the back doors to look for him but fell short. “Val?” she called quietly, hoping he didn’t ditch her. She walked by the downstairs door and she felt a pair of hands grab her from the door. She gasped, feeling a hand go over her mouth. “Hey, Scar, cool your jets, it’s just me.” 

 

She was muffled, shaking her head to break free. “Hey, hey, hey, cool it, baby girl. Don’t start yelling.” 

 

Scar huffed and nodded. 

 

“What the hell, Val?!” 

“It’s cute when you get so flustered over nothing.” 

 

“It’s something when you scare the fuck out of me.” 

“I scared you?” 

“I’m not humoring you. What are you doing down here?” 

“I couldn’t stand those eyes on me, it’s like they’re looking down at you.” 

“Val… you can go home if you hate it so much.” 

“I’m not leaving you here.” 

“I have two legs, I’ll walk.” 

“Fuck no, but listen, there’s a reason I got you here.” 

“Spit it out.” 

 

Val pulled a photograph from his pocket. 

“That pastor? I don’t trust that fucking snake. Retired Dixie Mafia? Come on, Rosey, you know what to do.” Scar didn’t want to admit it. “If he’s one of God’s children, I don’t want to associate with the man upstairs if scumbags like him are welcome.” 

 

Miss Rose looked at the ground. “Fine, you know what, thanks for telling me. I’ll take care of it soon.” 

 

“Thatta girl. Sorry if I scared you. Isn’t service almost over?” 

 

She checked her watch. “Over in about 30 seconds but yes. Take me home, I need a cold shower.” 

“Sure thing.”

 

When they made it home, Val watched her open her front door. “You coming in? I’ll make you tea for your troubles.” 

 

“You sure you want that?” 

“Why? Should I be afraid?” 

“Not at all… but fine.” 

 

She smiled and kept the door open for him. She was hurt, to say the least. Scar began to make the tea, slamming objects around her. She was clearly hurt by the recent information. “Hey, Scar.” 

 

“Sit down, make yourself at home.” she smiled at him 

__

She handed him the tea and didn’t bother looking at him. “Thanks,” he said, blowing on the steam. “You know, Val. Knowing you has really changed me as a person. There’s really no one I can trust.” 

 

He smirked at her. “I don’t trust anyone but you and myself. See? You’re soft.” 

 

“SOFT?!” she snapped, brows knitting together. “yeah, soft. You make look like a hard cookie to crack but I see it happening now.” 

 

Scar was insulted. “Get off that high horse of yours, Valentine. This hurts me deeply and I want you to understand that.” 

 

“Hah! I know it hurts you, babe. and really, it should hurt you. You know I’ll dull the pain if you ask.” 

“Oh? And how will you do that?” 

“You have to ask me first, Rosey.” 

“Dull the pain if it will help me.” 

 

Xavier smiled and lit a cigarette between his lips. He walked over to her, towering over her. “One way…” he said smoothly, inhaling the smoke. “Like this.” 

 

He leaned in to kiss her, cupping her cheek in his palm. It was interesting,to say the least. How badly she wanted to kiss him back, just to forget about the pain she felt. So she did. 

 

She kissed him back, closing her eyes gently to avoid looking into those devilish eyes. “Better?” he asked, running his finger under her chin. “Hah, why won’t you look at me, babe?” 

 

“Because if I do, I’ll never escape those damned eyes.” 

“Glad I have that effect on you,” he whispered, kissing her again. When she pulled away, his eyes were glassy, dark, and dangerous. “I’ll take care of him, alright? Your heart is pure, girly. Unlike mine, don’t taint it with me.” 

 

“If you would do that, I’d thank you so damn much.” she wrapped her arm around his neck and rested her forehead on his shoulder. Xavier smiled and ran his fingers along her back. “You know I’d do that for you, Doll. Why don’t you go run a bath and I’ll see you soon, okay?” 

 

“Can’t you stay? It’s lonesome without my daddy and momma.” 

 

“I’ve never seen you like this, you okay?” 

 

“Never better… just stay here, please?” 

 

“Fine, fine, babe. I hope you don’t mind a sinner’s company.” 

 

She grinned, but oh dear, they make the best company.

 

_ “Maybe I’ll turn that black soul white…”  _


	5. Dead Winter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Viewer discretion is advised! 
> 
> Warning:   
> Medical torture   
> Depictions of violence  
> Real Nazi Experimentation 
> 
> A lot of angst in this one :)   
> I feel like there's a lot of dialoug in this chapter and not a lot of desciption :( anyways, enjoy the heavy sadness and such :)

Poland was hit with a hard snow, people in the POW camps were slowly dying from the extreme cold. Misha was not one of them, she was built for the cold, although she did not enjoy it. In her cell, she listened to the guards yelling at one another over the stolen bread and knocked out the guard. Mikhail shot her a glance, thinking she made a huge mistake risking that. Misha met his gaze and perked a brow. 

 

Both of them fluent in sign language, as they enjoyed communicating with their deaf family members. 

 

“Do you hear them?” Misha signed, gently mouthing the words. 

“Yes,” he replied, not looking very amused. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” 

 

Before Mikhail could reply, a guard walked down the hall, ready to wring a neck. Mikhail became defensive, eyes fixated on the SS soldier. As he began to read down his list, Misha was already staring him down with a fearless look in her eyes. If she got caught, she’d be in for a terrible punishment. “Where is... Volkova?” 

 

She raised her hand. 

 

“Come with me,” he said, unlocking her door. “Where are you taking her?” Mikhail asked, his hands wrapped around the metal bars. “To questioning.” 

 

Misha chuckled. “Not much to ask me, I worked all day.” she lied. 

 

Mikhail watched her every move. As the man shut her cell door, she signed a few words to Mikhail. 

 

“Do not worry, I’ll get out of this.” 

 

“Come now.” He shoved Misha along and she stumbled, almost falling flat on her face. “Ahg, damn you! Watch where you shove, cyka!” Mikhail mentally slapped himself. _‘Now would be a good time for you to behave!’_ he thought to himself, watching the guard’s face grow more annoyed. “Quiet!” he hissed, pinning her hands behind her back. 

  
  


She whipped her head around to look at Mikhail, a look of fury and rage in his eyes. 

 

Out of the building, she took high steps to avoid the snow. She saw a huge swastika flag above the door she was about to walk under, so easy to grab and rip to shreds. Into the captain’s office, she felt all eyes on her. As much as she wanted to spit at their feet, she only shot blood-curdling glares and curses under her breath. “Misha Volkova, right?” The captain asked, interlocking his fingers together. 

 

“Right,” she replied, ripping her shoulder away from the guard behind her. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed like a viper. “Leave us, will you?” the captain asked politely.  

 

“Ja!” 

 

With his orders, they left the two to their own devices. 

 

“What do you want?” 

“I just have a few questions for you.” 

“Then ask, if you think I want to talk to you for any length of time, you’re mistaken.” 

“No need to be hostile, Volkova.” 

 

His words enraged her, his smug, uptight attitude was enough to make her lose her cool. 

 

She slammed her hands on his desk, shaking his cup of coffee. 

 

“Do not dare tell me not to be hostile, you swine! Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?!” 

“I do, do you know who you are talking to?” he asked calmly. 

“I have no desire to learn your name, my only desire is to put a bullet in that thick skull.” 

“The feeling is mutual, Volkova. I care not who you are, nor do I care what good you’ve done. It’s best to show respect to the man who holds your life in his hands. Now sit.” 

 

She did, though she only wanted to throw his coffee in his face. 

 

“Good. Now, I need to know what you were doing yesterday.” 

 

“Working,” she said flatly. 

“And where?” 

“The Mines.” 

“With?” 

“Mikhail Volkov.”

 

The captain nodded, sipping his coffee. 

 

“Would you like some?” 

“No, trying to poison me?” 

“Not at all, in fact, you are a hard worker and you are a good asset. How would you like to switch jobs?” 

“To?” 

“Flag making.” 

It would be better than mining, even though she would hate to make Nazi flags every day for hours.

“But anyway, you were in the mines, and that’s the only place you went?” 

“Yes, other than my cell.” 

 

“What happened to the ax that was broken?” 

“Mikhail fixed it.” 

 

Such a liar she was… 

“Thank you, Volkova. but, about that job… are you interested?” 

“As long as my brother can get the same hospitality.” 

“Afraid not, Volkova.” 

“Then I don’t want it.” 

 

Misha leaned back in the chair and eyed the room, counting the flags and metals. “True devotion, hm?” 

 

“Right.”

“I respect that. Go back to your cell.” 

 

She dismissed herself and looked around for guards, her sights failing her. So, she went back to the captain’s office. “You’re going to let me walk around freely? Where're the guards?”

 

“Oh? You're not competent enough to walk back by yourself?”

 

Before she could respond with a snarky comment, the door swung open and the familiar face of her big brother was flustered and red. “Mikhail!” She shouted, glaring at the guards with a cross-eyed look in her irises. It was obvious he resisted, his blonde tresses laying in a wild mess. Nostrils flaring like a stallion, he ripped his arms away, grunting in pain to see a gash across his arm. When they let him go, Misha ran to tend his wound, a pair of gentle fingers moving the cloth. “What did you do to him, you bastard!?” She hissed. 

 

“You mean what he did to himself - the damned fool sliced his arm leaving his cell.” Misha didn’t care about that, she only ripped his shirt to dab the blood away. “Men, men, that’s enough. Take Misha back to her cell.”

 

“Ja!”

 

They grabbed both her arms and pinned them behind her and pushed her along. Mikhail reached out to grab her but she was out the door by the time he could barely grace her skin with his fingertips. 

 

“Sit, Mikhail.” He whipped his head around and scowled at the captain. “You have no business addressing me as Mikhail. We aren’t _friends_.” 

 

“You aren’t in _my_ military - you are not a lieutenant.” The words stung, he lived by his title and now that he was a normal civilian. “Your sister tells me you were working in the mines with her, is this true?

 

“This is true. Have any other questions, detective?” He snapped, blatantly ignoring the terrible pain in his arm. “You are strong enough to easily choke a man out, but there’s no evidence to prove you are guilty. You may return to your block, but enter Misha’s cell. Tell her to keep her puppy in line. Dismissed.” 

 

Mikhail stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Despite being the older one, he could be quite childish at times. But right now, all he wanted to do was resist and protect. 

 

He saw the guards shove Misha into her block. “Your captain says I can be with her.” He said. 

 

“Alright.”

 

He wasted no time to see her. When the guards left, Mikhail exhaled heavily and slowly slid down the wall to have Misha throw her arms around him. “I’ve missed you immensely.” She said, hiding her face in his chest. He gently brought a hand to gently pet her hair. “I have missed you too, words can’t express how much I’ve thought about you, even though I could see you, I still worried.” 

 

Misha chuckled into his chest. “I just don’t understand why they would have us together - I don’t trust them. Besides, you’re too pretty to be experimented on.” He scoffed at her notion. “You think so, lapochka? I’m sure they don’t think so. And you are right, are they playing mind games? Getting us close to rip the other way?”

 

She shrugged and wrapped her arms around him even tighter. “Regardless, I’m grateful to be with you now.” Misha snuggled into him, feeling his orbs look down at her. “I am too, Misha, don’t doubt it…” He cooed, running his fingers through her hair.

 

“Rest now, Misha. You know I’ll protect you, right?” 

 

“Da…”

 

The two were really close, but how could they not be? Mikhail had no one but her and she had no one but him. While she sat next to him, he patted her hair until she fell sound asleep. It was cold and windy, snow blowing into their building. He shielded her face with his arm, his own goosebumps starting to form. Misha stirred in her sleep, her grip on his going soft as she drifted. Mikhail’s memories were running wild, when she shot her first gun, the look of fire and shock in her eyes stuck with him. 

 

_**Flashbacks:** _

In his spare time, Mikhail was a fearsome guardsman. Nothing getting past his watchful eyes. Preparing for an execution, she walked around the cell block, inspecting each and every cell until he found something… 

 

“Against the wall,” he commanded, eyeing the makeshift weapon under the pillow. The sharp edge sticking out. “What’s this, huh?” when he knelt down and moved the pillow, he prepared for the attack from behind. Just as the man went to stab him in the back, Mikhail turned around and looked down at the man holding another make-shit knife. “Drop the weapon before I use this pathetic excuse of a knife to stab you in the neck.” Mikhail was not one to repeat himself… not even twice. So, the prisoner dropped the weapon and turned towards the wall. “That’s what I like to see, what makes you think a little worm like yourself could even cut me?” he asked, pressing his face into the stone walls. 

 

Mikhail was ruthless and cruel to those who earned his hatred, it was frightening. The cruel look in his eyes as he took another life with a single bullet. When he was in the safe walls of his gulag, he was a changed man. 

 

_ Stone cold.  _

 

He cuffed his hands tightly and pushed him on. “Move along,” he hissed, the clicking of his boots drumming through the building. “Volkov, you have got a visitor!” Said one of his friends. “Tell them to wait a moment, I’ve cleaning to do.” he barked, taking the man outside. He walked by the front doors and saw his younger half sitting down with her legs crossed, her ushanka sitting in her lap. “Misha!” he said, his face going bright. Such a change in his ways when he saw her. “Finish up, Mikhail. I don’t mind the wait.” 

 

An idea sprouted in his head. “Misha, come with me, please!” 

“As you wish.” She got to her feet and plopped her hat back on. “You’re going to fire a gun today.” 

‘You know I am afraid of guns!” 

“You won’t be for long, you’re going to be shooting this little rat right through the eyes.” 

“And his crimes?” 

“This man would rather side with the Germans rather than his countryman, so perhaps he’d like to join them underground.” Misha nodded, gently patting Mikhail’s shoulder. “Fair enough. Come then.”

 

She opened the door for him and watched him manhandle the prisoner out the door and guided him to his deathbed. “On your knees,” Mikhail ordered. Misha walked behind the man to join Mikhail, the warm sun beaming on her. “Didn’t you say I was going to shoot him in the eyes?” she asked, lifting a brow. 

 

“Back of the head is easier,” he jested. He removed his rifle from his shoulder and handed it to her. “Ready?” he asked giving her a hopeful smile. She didn’t reply, yet she took her aim and glanced over at the blonde haired guardsman. He smiled and winked at her, a faint look of mischief in those deep blue eyes of his. When she fired, it was a perfect shot, a single bullet through the skull. Mikhail clapped for her, throwing his arm around her. “Haha! That’s what the Volkovs are made of! Good job, my dear sister.” She looked over at him and smiled, the sun shining behind her, her eyes looking so kind and gentle, despite her taking her first life. “I’ve missed hearing you laugh like that, Mikhail! It’s rather quiet without your loudmouth at home, father misses you!” 

 

“I miss you all, don’t think I don’t. But I will return soon, don’t you worry.” When she handed him the rifle back, she admired how clean he kept them. “Wait a moment.” she checked the time on her watch and realized she may miss her train if she didn’t leave soon. “I have to run unless I want to miss my train, but come here, you are much taller than me. Lean.” He leaned down to her height and he felt her lips on his cold cheek, her gloved fingertips holding his face in place. “Wait, aren’t you wearing lipstick?” before she answered, she was already reapplying her dark red coloring to her lips. “That isn’t going to stop me from giving you a kiss, Mikhail. Now, I’ll be seeing you! I love you even though you are quite annoying. Goodbye!” she hugged him quickly and began her walk to the train station. “Wait! I’m sending a guard with you!” he sprinted up to the group of his friends and instructed one of them walks with her. “Vladimir, go with her and see she gets on the train with ease.” 

 

“Yes, sir! But it’s hard to take you seriously with a lipstick mark on your cheek…”

“Ahg! Just go, damn it!” He barked playfully, watching the women step over the half melted mounds of snow. 

 

He missed her already. Mikhail watched his friend greet her and happily explained he would be traveling with her as requested by her brother. Before the death of their father, Misha was no military woman. She had no desire to join, but she wasn’t against it. It was all just a… vision. She never saw herself carrying a gun.

 

But that sweet vision was tainted with a bitter death.

Mikhail’d never admit the fact that it destroyed him, he was broken. He told himself he was fire and bulletproof but he knew he wasn’t. And now, inside that camp, his whole world came crashing down, Misha had to now tell herself she was a superwoman. But really, what makes a superwoman or a Superman? Strong? Brave? 

 

No, none of those things.

To be a superman or woman, it was not about how brave or strong you are, yet it is about surviving in any situation. And both of them were surviving against all odds. 

 

Present:

 

When Misha woke up, she lifted her head and looked around the cell, it was painfully quiet, even Mikhail didn’t say anything to her. “Mikhail…?” She whispered, feeling his hands twitch against her back. He must be sleeping. 

 

But it didn’t sit well with her, he would’ve have said something by now. “Mikhail, are you okay, say something to me.” She left the warmth of his side and pushed his hair out of his face to see his eyes glazed and looking dead. She didn’t panic, even though she wanted to. She pried his eyes open and he was barely moving. 

 

She gently laid him on his back and began feeling for a pulse. It was weak, but it wasn’t enough to comfort her. “Mikhail, Mikhail, answer me!” She said, pumping his chest in hopes to bring him closer. She put her ear to his mouth and heard very very quiet gasps of air, it sounded as if his throat was swollen. She punched his nose and pushed air into his body via CPR. “What the fuck did they do to you?!” She screamed, pumping his chest. Frustrated, she felt for a pulse in his wrist. “Misha, he isn’t going to die.” A voice rang. She whipped her head around and saw the captain from before. In a fit of rage, she ran to him, rattling the bars of her cage. “Answer me, you bastard! What the hell did you do to my brother?!” She growled, watching the captain exhale the ivory smoke. “I didn’t do anything, Misha. But you’ll be doing something in a matter of moments.”

 

She was confused. 

 

“Why did you have us stay together if you’re just going to rip us away?! I swear I will kill you and every last one of your men! I will not be subject to your games!”

 

“Not my games, but my experiments.”

 

The words terrified her, who knows what would be done to her in their hands?

 

“Don’t touch me, you Nazi bastard!” She hissed, watching him unlock her door. “I will kill you, no matter where I stand, I am going to wipe your pathetic being out!” He chuckled, and slowly opened her door as she backed away. “Comply and I won’t hurt you.” 

 

“Bullshit! I don’t trust a single word from that dagger of a tongue!” She hissed, backing herself to the wall of her cell. He walked to her calmly, his clicking boots sounding like a war drum. She couldn’t run or hide, she was vulnerable. She didn’t take her dark eyes off him as he extended his hand to her. “Come now, Misha. It will be much easier if you comply.” 

 

When she didn't respond, he pulled a large needle from his back and showed it to her. “Hold still now.” Playfully, he wiggled it in front of her, his sleek leather gloves running along the needle. “We will get to know each other quite well, Misha. You may call me Klaus Hofmeister,” he added, catching her in the corner. 

 

Klaus wasn’t the typical scary captain, yet he was patient and calculating. Misha had no choice but to take her fate and run with it. He took a handful of her long tresses and yanked her over to him, her body weak and fragile from the lack of food and water. She resorted to eating the snow that fell into their cells and drinking from puddles when the snow melted. She groaned and struggled to fight, her fingers gripping his, her skin sticking to the leather. Slowly, he injected her neck with the needle, watching her eyes slowly roll back as she felt the effects take over. She stopped fighting, the last thing she saw was her brother’s body, skin pale and lifeless. But he wasn’t dead, she almost wished he would just die already so he wouldn’t have to suffer. 

 

As she was dragged out, the other prisoners who’d grown fond of her looked devastated, recognizing her face from newspapers those months ago. 

 

Klaus waited for her to wake up when he threw her in the chamber, so he took the time to catch up on his readings. With Misha was a little girl who looked just like her, only she was much younger, perhaps around 8 years old. Misha woke up and saw the child beside her, looking weak and close to death. She looked around the new prison cell and saw blood staining the walls and floors. “Hey, little one, are you awake, come here.” she ushered, gently grabbing the girl’s face. “What’s your name?” Misha asked, pushing the dark brown hairs out of her face. “Masha,’ she replied weakly. Misha smiled at her and looked down at her blistered arms, wondering what the hell caused such wounds. “What happened to you?” She was probably asking too many questions but she felt wrong leaving the girl in the dark. 

 

They were inside a test chamber, the subject unknown to the soldier. The child didn’t reply but she lowered her head weakly. Misha looked around when she met eyes with the captain she was filled with rage. Jumping to her feet, she slammed her fists into the glass. “What the fuck did you do to her?! Answer me, don’t leave me in the dark,  _ pizda! _ ”

 

“Calm yourself, Misha. I see you’ve met Masha! The two of you will get along well. But I assume you want to know what’s happening, don’t you?” He walked around the glass, holding the keys over his fingers. “Misha, you are Russian, ja?” 

 

_ “Proudly.”   _ she hissed. 

“Healthy?” he asked. 

“Yes.” 

 

“Then join your brother in the next room in the ice bath, he is withstanding it so well! It seems like you Russians were built for the cold. When she heard him mention her  _ brother  _ her attitude changed completely. “What are you doing to him, you sick bastard?! Tell me! Tell me right now, you sick, sick monster!” Misha was furious, blindly seeing red. “Go in the next room and see him, but my men will give you the same treatment. So do not think you can free him.” She didn’t care, but deep down she thought she would regret seeing him. When she opened the door, guards grabbed her and bound her wrists as if they were waiting for her. When she looked up, her jaw seemed to hit the floor when she saw him sitting in a huge bucket of ice water, bare naked and a quivering mess. Alongside him was a doctor, documenting his behavior. ** _“MIKHAIL!”_** She screamed at the top of her lungs, kicking and screaming, fighting for him. He looked up at her with a pair of weak eyes, glassy and dull. His entire body was freezing, but he somehow was able to stay alive. The shock took over her as tears streamed down her cheeks. “The Russians are very good in the cold,” the doctor commented. “Take him outside, please. He is doing so well.” 

 

The words made her sick. ‘ _ My brother isn’t your toy.’  _

 

“He has yet to lose consciousness, he is strong.” 

 

“I’ve passed your test… take me out.” Mikhail almost begged, he was in so much pain he didn’t care about his own pride, and really, that said something. “You are going out, outside that is.” 

 

He was going to die, he was sure of it. All eyes were on him, the doctor, the guardsman… he was vulnerable and on the verge of death. Naked and shivering, they had him step out of the vat. Ice was frozen to his skin and it burned like fire to peel it off. His hands were shaking uncontrollably. Even if he wanted to fight back, he couldn’t. When they opened the back door, a harsh wind blew in and Mikhail let out a loud groan in agony. Misha was forced to watch him suffer. “Go on now, you are doing well. They slammed the door, leaving him out in the bitter cold to continue their tests. The window in the door made him a perfect prop for their sick tests. Misha pulled on her binds, she pulled so hard the metal cuffs began to rip her skin, the pain was so terrible yet she still pulled. “Ahg! Let me go, let me go!” 

 

The guards didn’t worry about her pulling as she would end up ripping her skin but could not escape. “She is strong. Hold still.” the man behind her held her face in place so she would be looked at. “Good… good.” 

 

“I’m not your doll,” Misha snapped. The pain in her wrists beginning to increase. “She will be good for the Sea Water test, but for now she can take part in the… spectating of  Volkov.” 

 

When the doctor looked out the window, Mikhail was still standing. “Come in, a hot bath is in your future.” 

 

He couldn’t speak but his eyes told a million words when he looked at Misha. “Mikhail, Mikhail, listen to me, LISTEN to me, I won’t let you die, no matter what happens, know one thing  and never forget it…” 

 

“ _Ya_ lyublyu tebya.”

I love you.

 

It wasn’t easy watching him suffer, not even in the slightest. He turned his head to her, his mouth agape. “They will make you wish you have died a thousand deaths.” Misha didn’t care. 

 

“I would die a thousand deaths for you not to suffer.” 


	6. Soldier At Birth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> music inspo:  
> seize the day - a7x 
> 
> enjoy!!

Several days after the horrific experiments Mikhail suffered, Misha was not left out, in fact, she was hoping for death. Nikolay was forced to watch her suffer from beyond the glass, watching her life drain from her very eyes. He watched her lick freshly mopped floors, begging him for a droplet of water. But at night, he gave her what she needed. But as for her current situation, she was forced to drink large amounts of seawater. Having it poured down her throat by tube, it was hell. They left her alone for a few moments and had Nikolay observe her. She gripped her stomach in sheer agony and coughed rapidly, a mixture of saliva and blood filling her mouth. It burned to spit it out, the cuts in and around her mouth absorbed the salt water. She writhed in pain, rolling onto her back. “PLEASE, make it stop, I am begging you.” 

 

Nikolay wanted to cry seeing her like this. He could not wait until nightfall to give her fresh water. 

 

But no matter, her pain would not end there. While she drank salt water, Mikhail underwent a hot bath experiment, he watched his own soldiers undergo the same damn thing. Slowly, the water began to heat, if they were heated up too fast, they would die from the shock. “Lieutenant…” Vladimir said, the same man who always traveled with Misha to her trains. “What my friend?” Mikhail replied. 

 

“It was an honor to serve under you and it is an honor to feel your pain.” Mikhail shook his head. “It was my pleasure, my honor to have you by my side, friend. And it will be an honor to make the Germans shake in their boots alongside you.” 

 

As the water heated up, it felt like a bath where the water only needed to cool for a moment. Mikhail had already developed scars from his burns all over his body. His body was pelted with bullets and poorly done stitches, causing more prominent scarring. His arms were covered in slices, burns with hot iron, extreme cold stuck to his skin to only be ripped off, taking his skin with it. The doctors watched them suffer slowly, their skin turning red from inflammation. “Where the fuck is my sister, cyka?” Mikhail hissed, so tempted to climb out of the tub, ripping out the temperature gauge. He started out nearly frozen when he was thrown into the warm water, perhaps it was a blessing at first. “Well done, men,” the doctor said, flipping off the switch to the water would no longer heat. “Did you hear me? Where is my sister?” he asked again, his eyes turning dark. “She is being tested, you don’t have to worry. Come now, out of the water.” 

 

Mikhail happily stepped out, shaking his limbs off. “The women will serve in our next heat experiment, one of our doctors informed me  copulating will also warm the men, but the water will serve much better.”   


Both Russians cringed at the thought. Mikhail could hear faint screams in the other room. “It’s Misha…” he muttered, he knew damn well what was happening to her. 

 

Nikolay couldn’t bare her screams any longer. Quickly, he pulled a water canister from his attire and slipped into the room with her. Misha almost crawled to his side, her body begging for a single drop. Her hands were dirt stained and burned from grabbing hot metal bars by accident. Crawling by the walls, she would grab the pipes that went into the next room for the hot baths. He never heard her beg for something in her time in the camp. 

 

She refused to beg most of the time, but now, that’s all she could do. He gently cradled her head and poured the fresh water in her mouth. She gulped it, gasping from the refreshments. Niko pulled it away gently. “Don’t drink too fast, your brain will swell.” 

 

“Nikolay… thank you… so much. You saved my life.” 

 

“I did no such thing, you kept yourself alive for so long.” Misha licked her lips, enjoying the faint moisture. “You risk your own life to help Mikhail and me, I thank you for that, I promise I will get us out of here.” He kissed her forehead. “Have hope,  _ koshechka _

 

Nikolay watched her smile faintly, the sleepiness in her eyes. 

 

_ “How sweet these eyes of yours are, the tenderness of your skin, kissed by the moonlight and stars.” _

 

_ Misha smiled at his words, she wasn’t even sure if she was dreaming. “Are you drunk, Nikolay?” she teased gently, letting her guard down for only a second.  _

 

_ “I don’t drink, Misha.”  _

 

_ “Poor you.” But really, in that moment, Misha saw a flame in his eyes, a radical flame she could take and run with it. “I have to go now, Misha. I hate to leave you but please, I won’t let you die.”  _

 

Misha has just finished her testing and was fast asleep in the corner of the testing room, holding little Masha under her arm to keep her safe. When she child shifted, Misha’s eyes slowly opened and the child placed her delicate finger over Misha’s hand and gripped her hands. Shivering and damp from spilling water on herself, Misha curled more into a ball and pulled the child closer. “Rest, dear girl, I’ll protect you.” 

 

Misha was never fully asleep, ready to wake up at the slightest sound. Before she had joined the military, even Mikhail’s heavy boots that shook their entire home didn’t wake her up. Even  _ Mikhail  _ slept like a damn bear, no amount of nudging or blanket stealing woke him. But Misha had her own set of tricks to wake up the big oaf. All she had to do was unleash her  _ puppy  _ on him. 

 

And puppy meaning a huge dog with teeth strong enough to break bones and chain link fences. Both of them adored the animal, snuggling up in the coldest days of winter. Nakita was her name, she was fiercely protective of the siblings, ready to chew off a man’s arm if one dared to bring them any harm. Mikhail took her on hunts and even let her help at the gulags, scaring prisoners into submission. Despite her very scary look, she was a doll and often knocked Mikhail back into walls when she jumped on him. Misha dressed her up in handmade bows and took her for walks in the city square, children flocking to the dog. They both missed those days and wondered whatever happened to the poor girl. Was there home even there anymore? 

 

Memories of their old life played in her head as she lied on the cold, tile floor. Mikhail would tell her outlandish stories, which were all true, to lull her to bed when he would leave for weeks on end. With a 10 year age difference between them, Mikhail at 35, he remembers holding her when she was a small babe and cherishing her since day one.  He watched over her with eagle eyes, adoring her with all his being. And when the day came she could walk, he took her everywhere, holding her on his shoulders and reaching the high shelf. Or… keeping watch when she climbed on with bare feet. He never scolded her or said anything to hurt her feelings, when she cried he held her and told her he would destroy what made her cry. If it was a person who hurt, he would happily act as her watchdog and scare the daylights out of them. And if it were a boy she liked? He might just kill him! 

 

Mikhail remembered seeing her with such a proud look in her eyes when she first watched a military parade and he was in the front lines, hundreds of men behind him. Giving his speech to all the people of Moscow, he was proud to see her with tears of joy in her eyes. One day, she cried and cried when he came home with a bandage on his arm from a gunshot wound. Even when she was a child, she wanted to fight his war without weapons as her fear of guns was very prominent. She watched him suffer and she watched him strut with pride. And of course, she watched in horror when he stitched his bullet wound with a needle and thread, pouring vodka over the wound while gripping a leather belt between his fangs. Misha urges him to see a doctor and told him  _ you have no idea what you’re doing!  _ Not listening to her, he only cracked jokes about cutting off his arm. She saw him in all stages and modes, his kind and sweet behavior reserved for his dear ones and his fiery temper reserved for the people who dared stand against him. 

 

She saw him execute a man in cold blood without hesitation, she watched him train soldiers, he was beyond cruel as a Sargent, breaking people until they were nothing left and then she watched him craft them into young soldiers. And when the day came she wanted to join the military, he was proud of her and promised he would protect her. But during that time in her life, both of them were broken from the loss of their father. Mikhail grew distant and resorted to training even harder to fight the war. He pushed Misha beyond her limits and broke her by her own demand. “Don’t go easy on me! I want to be like  _ you.”  _

 

And by her demand, Mikhail pushed her harder, sometimes making her cry but she wiped those tears and thanked him each time. And when she would sleep during training, he would unleash his hounds upon the rooms, forcing the soldiers to escape lest they are mauled by beasts. One night, Misha expected this attack and hid on the rooftop and called to Mikhail when he walked out the back. “Up here, Mikhail.” 

 

Impressed with her strategy, Mikhail laughed and wondered how she would get down. “You got up, but can you get _down_? It’s very high, Misha!”

 

Not wanting to give him the very unneeded ego boost of agreeing, she looked around and found it would be hard to get down without a bit of help. “Comrades help each other, come now, Misha.” He said this with open arms and a wink. As he stood there, the sun was barely rising above the horizon, the slight sunlight making his ocean blue eyes sparkle. So she jumped down right into his muscled arms only to have the pack of dogs race towards her and Mikhail told them to heel, and like magic, the dogs sat down and Mikhail promised them they could chew on fascist bones. 

 

When Misha got her first gunshot wound, she treated it as a badge of honor and got through it, medics working on her arm as Mikhail poured her shots of vodka to get her through the pain. As she got drunker, her groans of pain turned into laughter and cracking jokes. While she rested, Mikhail stayed by her side and simply held her hand, kissing her knuckles and when she finally woke up, Mikhail would be sleeping in the chair, his fingers interlaced with hers. “Mikhail, wake up.” Her words just went into one ear and out the other. “Mikhail!” 

 

Still nothing. She tapped his fingers and reached over to jingle his badges. “Fine!” She grinned and reached for his earlobe to tug. He woke up instantly and pretended as if he was really awake. “Morning…” he groaned, rolling out his shoulders and cracking his back. “I have to go, Misha. Will you be alright without me? I promise I’ll check up on you in a few hours, da?

 

And when he left, she read books and slept most of the day until the night came and Mikhail went back to her side and told her about the day, making her laugh with his stories. 

 

“Did you know Anton met  _ Rasputin?” _

_ “Don’t lie!”  _

 

Part of their time spent together was joyous and fun, other times it was painful and full of hardships.

 

But it made them grow stronger. 

 

What really made them understand how much they needed one another, Mikhail saved the both of them. 

 

It was foolish of him, but he didn’t care about that!

 

**_“MOVE!”_ **

 

He saw a grenade land right by Misha’s boot and he knew they wouldn’t be able to run far away in time. He grabbed the weapon and  _ threw  _ it away from them. He shoved Misha behind a building and he barely escaped the shrapnel that went flying around. It felt like hundreds of shards pierced his clothing, some even stuck in his skin. Every time he moved a muscle, the shards were deeper into his skin. “Misha, you need to get out of here, understand?” 

 

“If you think I’m leaving you, you’re wrong! Can you walk?” 

 

He leaned on the wall and watched his comrades take care of the enemies like they were nothing, and knew his training with them paid off. “Yes, I can, but I’ll only slow you down.”  Misha didn’t listen to him, she threw her arm over him and helped him walk, she basically dragged him along. “Come on now, Mikhail,” she looked over at him with a dirt covered face, her eyes going soft. “You saved my life, I wouldn’t dream about leaving you alone.” 

 

When the fight had won, Misha took the liberty of picking the shards from his back before the nurses could arrive. He writhed under it, the shards taking chunks of muscle out with them. “Hold still, it’ll be over soon.” her words were little comfort for him, though the feeling of her soft hands on his flesh was a comfort. She ripped metal from her own skin before and didn’t care about hurting herself, but now, all she could think about being gentle. 

 

Maybe joining the army together was the worst choice she ever made. She saw it all. When she picked those shards from his skin, it made her realize she may see his death before her own eyes. It was an insult to her pride, those damn fascists would not take another Volkov, not while she stands. 

 

“You’re a hero, Mikhail.” she would tell him, but he refuted such things. 

 

“I’m no hero,” he laughed it off because he didn’t see a hero when he looked in the mirror. When he saw his reflection, he saw only a man with a purpose. He saw no hero, he felt as if he didn’t deserve the title for doing the right thing. 

 

But as usual, stubborn Misha insisted. 

 

She didn’t leave his side those nights, the bitter cold slowing them down. She gave him everything he needed, a warm meal, well, decently warm. She gave him the rations with parts of hers and prepared them with love, offering to bring him water or something fresh, despite those items being rare. “Misha,” he called her over to him, a weak and tired smile on his lips. His eyes were tender and soft, like that of velvet and silk. “Da?” She dropped what she was doing and raced to him, ready to be of aid. He gestured her to lean down to him. “Come closer, I won’t bite your face off.” Misha laughed at his comment and did as he asked. She felt his cold, calloused hands touched her cheek and pushed the strands of hair out of her face. “I want you to sleep. And when I say sleep, I want you to go to bed, not in this damned chair. Your back must be hurting so badly from sleeping upright. So rest, right now.” 

 

“But Mikhail…” 

“No! No, you will go to bed right this instant. Listen to me, don’t argue, Misha.” He raised his voice, his pain putting him in a sour mood. She gently huffed and raised both her brows at him, she understood she was being childish but all she wanted was to make him happy. “Misha… I’m sorry. You know I would never say anything to upset you.” 

 

So she did, but she kissed his forehead before she left. 

 

And just like that, she followed her comrade’s word to the very letter. Over those years, until now, they grew together. She was the strong, determined woman thanks to Mikhail pushing her all those years with tender words and undying support. 

 

Now when she needed them the most, he wasn’t by her side. When she looked at little Masha, she wanted to be  _ her Mikhail.  _ She wanted to be her hero, her protected, her shield, and her rock. They grew close over the time they spent together, sharing stories and interests. 

 

Misha would braid her hair and brush it with her fingers, doing what she could to make the girl feel like a princess. “Look at you, what a little princess,” Misha would tell her, kissing her cheek and acting almost like a mother. Misha demanded the girl is not tested on, fighting to the very death for her. 

 

_ “I won’t let you take her in there! Take me, I don’t care what you do, just don’t hurt her.”  _

 

The woman wouldn’t have it, even for a moment. She would stand her ground and tell the guards to leave her out of it. “Even the worst Soviet has more of a heart than any of you Nazi bastards,” she would scream through the glass, the room warming up to extreme heat, all while little Masha watched in horror. 

 

While they slept, Misha was much more than tired. Was she dying? She opened her eyes to see the lights on and guards making the rounds. “Come, it’s time to wake up.”

 

“Shut up, I’ve been here long enough to know when to wake, you daft idiot.” 

 

Misha was feeling prickly that day, muttering words in Russian to her new child friend. “What is on my torture list today, Doctor? Or maybe you’ll try?” 

 

“No, Volkova. You will be with Mikhail for this test, as it’s much easier to conduct with two parties.” 

 

Her mind went to the worst and speculated what might happen to them. Masha grabbed her hand and stopped her from walking, a look of innocence in those dark eyes. “Will you return?” 

 

“I don’t know, Masha. Just don’t worry…” 

 

As she was dragged into the next room, she saw Mikhail strapped to a chair, fighting his restraints with all his might. “Now, we are trying to find ways to slow the blood in case of a wound, and we’ve found that these tablets may help, but again, this is still being tested. Sit the woman down please.” he showed her the tablets like they were his new artistic creation. 

 

Mikhail’s eyes were wide and dilated, his skin sensitive from all the water he had been in. Misha was bound to a chair, her fight was futile as it was one against five. Mikhail gasped when he watched the doctor pull a revolver from his long, white coat and casually insert the bullets. Mikhail tried to hide his fear with a series of insults and curses. And like that, his leg was shot, right in the thigh and he groaned loudly, biting his cheeks so hard he drew blood. Having spit that out, the doctors watched the flow of the blood and wrote down their notes. “You’ll pay for that, you nazi fucks! You won’t break us, for we are made of steel and our Soviet blood will forever stain your hands!” Mikhail shouted, looking down at his bleeding leg, the pain overrunning every voice of reason. Misha was trembling, despite all the war she had seen, this was by far the worst because he had no fighting chance. Misha was also going to be subject to this test. She was shaking in raw shock, her words falling short, everything was flashing before her eyes. “Don’t… agh! Don’t you lay your filthy fucking hands on her, so help me I will make you wish you were dead!” 

 

All his pain was gone and all he could think about was her, where were they going to shoot her? Misha looked up at him with a dead expression, her eyes blank and looking hollow. Mikhail thrashed to get to her, fighting with all his might to somehow break the leather around his wrists. 

 

That painful sound of a gun rang into the air and he saw blood pouring from her arm. 

 

She stared at him, tears filling her eyes and streaming down her cheeks in a mix of anger and frustration. 

 

All Misha could do was stare at him, crying and screaming from the pain. As she shook, her tears stopped and she actually laughed. “You think… you think this will stop your downfall, German?” she asked, looking at them with a wide, pain filled grin. “I have killed so many of your men, I watched them beg, I watched them, pledge their allegiance to Adolf Hitler before I shot them like cattle…” she was laughing through her pain, her entire world came crashing down in front of her, writhing in pain alongside her brother. “...and I promise you I would do it a thousand times, I would watch you suffer JUST like you watch us.” 

 

Mikhail had no idea why she was laughing so much, it looked like everything broke her down to the bones. “Misha, look at me! We fight for the motherland, for our… comrades… for our leader Stalin! We will survive this!” 

 

The adrenaline kicked in and their pain became less of a bother. The doctors began to feed them special tablets that would help with blood clotting. They had nothing to lose with them. “Misha, please listen to me,” he groaned, his eyes giving her a novel of words he couldn’t say. “You need to relax, or you’ll bleed faster. Breathe with me.” He took heavy inhales and she followed, staring him right in the eyes. The tablets began to work and slowed their blood, but they didn’t care. Misha’s face was still full of pain, her eyes were still dilated and huge. Her mouth was barely agape, her dry lips cracked and bleeding. “We need to look at the wound closer."

So they cut her shirt onto her shoulder and basically ruined it, the coldness of the room giving her goosebumps. She hated being exposed to all the eyes in the room, visibly looking nervous. Mikhail was filled to the brim with fury, he despised how they touched her like she didn’t have feeling. “You can see the wound without ruining her damn clothes, you damn perverted bastards!”

 

As the male doctors moved her hair, she shook her head, moving it back over her shoulder. “Get your fucking paws off me, you German dogs!” 

 

She didn’t regret the insult even after she was slapped in the face. “Hold still right this instant, woman!” 

 

A red mark began to form on her cheek. “Watch your tongue, Soviet, lest I cut it out.” 

 

So the doctor used a firm and aggressive hand when moving her neck around, checking for wounds. “She is fine, only mind discoloration on the back of the shoulder, probably from sleeping on a hard surface.” 

 

Her wrist wounds were still bloody, only dried and still delicate. “One of our nurses has created a new test; rubbing nails or wood into woods to simulate the wounds on the field. The tablets have worked well, and I think our patient could use the discipline.” 

 

Misha didn’t care anymore, about the pain, or suffering. All she wanted was to get the fuck out of the hellhole. “Use nails.” 

 

“Ja.” 

 

Misha’s face was blank, no emotion, just nothing. She stared at Mikhail, who was frantic on the inside. She cringed when she felt shards of glass in her wrist wounds. The tendons in her hands were solid and bulging under her skin, but she remained silent. Mikhail’s head fell down, he couldn't stand it; his other half a simple test subject. As they rubbed the shards into the wound with their rubber gloves, Misha cringed deeply, the pain all blurring together. A woman made of hot steel, forged by the masters of war. Her eyes were like that of wolves, stalking prey from a mile away, only in her case, her eyes were enhanced by Soviet rifles with deadly accuracy. Her skin was that of snow, beautiful, pale and ice cold. Her hands crafted with the finest metals and stone, capable of murder and bloodshed; and even a gentle touch. Yet her heart was made of gold, kindness, and glory spewing from her chest, her rage and thirst for fascist blood living in harmony with it. Mikhail could tell all she wanted to do was bash their brains in with her boots, a bloody and violent death she would give them, roaring like an enraged bear, her claws ripping out their eyes for all the pain they inflicted on her and her brother. For everything they did, the pain and inner turmoil they gave her. It was written clear as day on her face, the depressing look in her eyes chilling him to the bone. She fantasized about brutally killing them over and over again, a slight smile forming on her lips. After months of torture, she needed to kill them. 

 

She would let none of them walk free, she would let them crawl away from her with gunshots in their knees, just as they did to her friends. She would drop them from high altitudes, just like they did to her friends, she would force them to inhale mustard gas, and inject blistering water into their intestines. 

  
  


**_Just like they did to everyone she knew._ **

 

After their prolonged torture, Misha didn’t say anything to Mikhail when they were in their cells with open wounds. “Misha?” he said gently, slowly touching her skin. She recoiled and he didn’t force it. “Misha, I understand if you don’t want to talk to me, but-” 

 

“But nothing, Mikhail, I am going to kill them all.” 

“Are you sure you want to say such things here?” 

“Let them hear, I don’t care. It’s all I can think about, Mikhail. I can’t…” 

 

She stopped and looked down at her bloody wrists, a look of horror on her face. 

 

“I can’t let them continue this, I can’t do it any longer, I would rather die than,” she stopped and clenched her hands together, tears filling her eyes, but she didn’t know why. “I can’t let them take you from me.” 

 

Mikhail was surprised by her words, his mouth agape. Not knowing what to say, he embraced her from behind and strong arms around her, gently resting his forehead on the back of her shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you, so don’t talk like I am a dead man. You know damn well I’m not dying here.” he nuzzled into her shoulder and interlaced his fingers with hers, nothing could break their grip. Their hands would have to be pulled by a vice grip. His golden tresses falling over her bare shoulder. 

 

“Want my shirt? It’s not clean but, it’s something more than what you have now. And even if they say no, I’m still giving it to you, so don’t even think about arguing.” 

 

“As you wish…”

 

Slowly, he pulled away and slipped out of his sleeveless shirt, his tones muscles aching with each movement. “Here, arms up, if you can.” She slowly lifted her arms, groaning from the pain.  _ “ _ _ Spokoyno, spokoyno.  _ I’m right here, let me help you.” 

 

She scoffed and let him do most of the work, he always treated her like a child when he could. “Misha, it’s not that I think you can’t do it, I just know you’re in pain, even if you don’t act like it, that is.” He paused and pulled her hair from under the shirt, “We Volvoks don’t give a shit about pain, you’re no different.” 

 

“...but that does not mean we don’t feel it.” he finished, the cold already hitting his bare skin. She leaned back into him, sitting betwixt his legs. She felt his chin rest in her hair, his gentle inhales comforting her. “Mikhail, do you remember when Nikolay was stitching my leg?” 

 

“Da, why?” 

“And you whispered to me ‘I prayed for you not to suffer, even though I don’t believe in God.”

“Yeah? What about it?” 

 

“Did you mean it?” 

 

“Of course I did.” 

 

Misha put her hand on his knee and watched his hand go over hers, giving her a gentle squeeze. 

 

She couldn’t see it, but his eyes were so delicate looking, the way he looked down at her, it resembled how a lion would look lovingly at a cub. His long eyelashes fluttering with each blink. 

 

“Maybe they were accepted, but now… all we do is suffer.” 

 

“I know, Misha, and that kills me. I just wanted to rip them to shreds when they just… treated you like a doll. That’s _ my  _ beloved Misha, I’m so sorry I couldn’t come to your aid.” 

 

“It’s not your fault.” 

 

He gently caressed her cheek, the handprint still there. “How is your cheek?” he asked, his knuckles running along her skin. “It’s fine, I just want to slap that fucking doctor with a bullet is all.” 

 

He laughed at her threat, a deep chuckle traveling through her hair. “I know you would, lapochka, I know.” 

 

Mikhail kissed her hair and gently pulled her hair back, exposing her cheeks for him to likely kiss and pinch. “Your hair is getting so long, Misha. I remember when mother would brush it and you would always cry unless I brushed it. Remember?” 

 

“Oh, be quiet. You liar.” 

“It’s no lie, my snowbird.” 

 

He whispered his words gently into her hair, removing the tangles with his fingers. 

“That’s because… well, I’ve always really loved you, even if I don’t act like it.” Her words took a dark turn and she started blaming herself for the entire ordeal. “...All I needed to do was fight a little harder with the Panzers back in Minsk and we could have taken the city back.” Her voice cracked, her bottom lip beginning to quiver. “Am I to blame?” 

 

Mikhail stopped brushing his fingers through her hair and brought his hand to hers, gently rubbing the back of her palm. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this, Misha. Don’t. You have done so much for our motherland and I will not have you blame yourself.” Mikhail looked at her hands and was very careful not to hurt her wrists. Misha felt him nuzzle into her shoulder, his cheeks against her neck, his stubble faintly tickling her skin. Misha’s eyes were red and misty, on the verge of crying a waterfall but she really was tired of crying. 

 

She felt helpless and she hated that. 

 

Having all her power ripped from her, that’s all she wanted. Mikhail didn’t admit it, but he blamed himself for not watching over her enough. But he was wrong, he did everything he could to protect her. During the battle of Minsk, he remembered his blood-stained hands that still haunt him to this very day because that was her blood. It all played back to him and he hugged her tighter without even knowing it. He remembered her telling him to leave her and save himself, but he refused. Mikhail would leave no one behind to die, he would run back into a burning building to rescue anyone. “Mikhail… are you…” 

 

“...Shaking?” she finished, her eyes locked onto his shaking hands. “Misha…” he started, ignoring her question. He wrapped his free arm around her chest tighter like it was the last thing he would ever do. He envisioned her being ripped from his protective embrace, the thought killing him on the inside out. “Mikhail, are you okay? I’m not going anywhere with your bear-arms around me,” she muttered, bringing her hand to his. “That’s not what I’m afraid of.” He said, his voice now shaky and interlaced with heavy breaths. She knew what was happening, it happened to him more so than her, as he had much longer exposure to war. 

 

**_P.T.S.D._ **

 

Mikhail was gripping her shoulder so tightly it borderline hurt her. “Stay with me, Mikhail, I’m not going anywhere… It’s okay.” She hated seeing him in such a state. One would think the younger would fall apart and the older was a comfort. 

 

Well, not always as Mikhail was riddled with war memories and trauma he refused to deal with. He thrashed in his sleep from night terrors, waking up in a cold sweat, heaving for air. Before Misha joined the military, she did her best to comfort him in his panic attacks. When she was much younger, she crawled into his bed and woke him up gently. First, he seemed to panic because the light obscured his vision. “Misha…?” he would whisper into the dark, her eyes barely visible, yet she was filled with tears from seeing him in so much pain. 

 

“Do you see monsters in your dreams?” he would tell her the truth and explain to her why he had these terrible dreams. He felt her tiny arms embrace him, so he would sit up and hug the young girl back and rub her back, trying to regain his own sanity. These memories kept him going in his recent attacks. 

 

Now, Misha brought a hand to his hair and gently rubbed his skin. “I love you, Mikhail, please don’t lose yourself.” He listened to her words and let out a very heavy exhale, his body slowly calming down. 

 

She was sure he had fallen asleep holding her as his breathing went back to normal. This reminded her that he suffered day and night, she hated to think about it and it was even worse that he spend cold, lonely nights without her to comfort him. 

 

She kissed his hand and tried to go to sleep, hoping, borderline begging she would see the light of the day when they woke up. 

 


	7. To My Beloved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics used - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F8nKz5iVImI
> 
> Enjoy!

 

To my beloved, 

I  am deeply sorry to leave your side in such a time of our life, I hope that you will forgive me. I miss you beyond words, and I hope you are safe, but really, I don’t even think you will get this letter. But in the chance you do get it, please know one thing. 

 

I love you. 

So much, words can’t tell you how much I adore and miss you.

 

But, onto matters more serious… 

I have lost a leg, but please do not panic. I have made my own prosthetic which is serving me well, though I won’t be serving. I still wish to be of aid, somehow, no matter how I do it. Getting used to my leg is still a challenge, but I have hope I will get used to such a thing. It’s a dramatic change, but my friends help me in every way they can. I can only be grateful I didn’t lose my life. 

 

I have almost graduated from the school, they are very impressed with my skills, but really, if I can save someone, I care not about my grade on it. I know I can save someone, that is all I want to ever do. Recently, I treated a man who lost his sight in a brutal stabbing within a gulag. He survived, though his trauma is still with him and I don’t think that will change for a very long time. We Russians are strong but are often times foolish with it, I wish the guardsman would understand he can take a simple rest. 

 

I wish you didn’t return to your homeland, guessing from what is happening now, I worry about you so deeply, please be safe in these times. I want you to burn this letter if you get it, I can’t risk them knowing about us. As much as you cherish these, burn them to ash. Please be safe, my love. 

 

Your’s true, Nikolay. 

 

And he never got a reply to that letter and he thought the total worst. But, how could he not? 

Now a doctor’s assistant for the Germans in Grady, all he can think is his own death for the crimes he’s seen and taken part in. 

 

Young, sweet and innocent, Nikolay was only 23 years of age and he had seen more war and bloodshed than he would ever like. He hated himself for it, his own reflection made him sick, enough to make him want to vomit, he was utterly disgusted. He contemplated taking his own life but he knew that if he did, the two people he adored would end up dying a terrible fate. 

 

The Volkovs. 

 

He adored them both, but he loved Misha more than anything in the world but it was so hard for him to tell her this. He remembered seeing her almost lifeless body outside his home, covered in dirt and blood, he couldn’t leave anyone out to die. When he nursed her wound, he used a delicate, angelic touch to keep all pain away from her. When she passed out from the pain, he fought for hours to keep her alive and he never told her, as far as she knows, she wasn’t going to die. He had to carefully put water back into her body; careful of her vulnerable state of high dehydration. She’d look into his soft eyes, her lips dry and cracking, begging for a bit of water. “Nikolay,” she would whisper, feeling the faint drops of water on her lips. “Shh, don’t talk.” She would listen to him, her mouth agape, desperate for water. 

 

Before he was tied up in this mess, Nikolay was a troubled man. His shield of kindness hid a dark past of war injuries and watching men bleed to death or choke on their own blood. Memories of his leg being blown off in the grenade blast still haunt him it felt like it happened only last night. 

 

An anti-Soviet attack had happened at the base which he was staying at, tending to the wounded. A grenade was thrown over the walls from a group of fascist hooligans, Nikolay paying the price for their foolishness. His agony reached the heavens, screams and cries startled the birds and his comrades dragged him to safety. He heaved, blood covering his hands, face, as he trembled, begging for aid. 

 

_ “ALERT THE OTHERS!” He screamed, looking around the operating room for antiseptics, or vodka to clean the wound, chunks of flesh dangling from the bone, he was in so much shock he didn’t keep crying, he only began to work on his leg and he heard his comrades outside the building catching the men who did such a crime. “Nikolay, what the hell are you doing?! Where’s a fucking doctor!?”  _

 

“I am a doctor, please, comrade, I can’t work on my leg, I am about to pass out.” 

 

And he did, seconds after saying it. He didn’t know his men spent hours keeping him alive. He’d lost so much blood he almost died, but the men on sight did their part to keep him breathing. And once he woke up, he looked down to see only one leg. Knowing he would feel like a burden, he made plans for a prosthetic, which he still wears to this day. 

 

Once his leg healed, he created a prosthetic leg, it took weeks to make by hand but once he made it, he was walking like normal, for the most part. Having left that base, he returned to the cabin on the outskirts of Moscow to be with his elderly mother to care for her. Nikolay was always a quiet and gentle soul, letting spring butterflies land on his fingers, fixated on their wings. Perhaps not the bravest lad Russia had to offer, as he was terrified of bears, but he still threw what he could out to them, watching them from his window, drawing sketches of them in his notebook. Nikolay was told to have the most gentle eyes in the world, eyes bluer than the deepest of oceans, they sparkled and truly reflected his soul; pure. 

 

When the female soldier crawled to his doorstep, he rescued her. 

 

Her name was Misha and he remembered the determined look in her eyes, she refused to give up on herself, ready to fire a round into the cursed armies. Misha had a bullet ripped from her leg, and he remembered her screams, her cries, and her very very vulgar curse words, cursing every fascist under the sun. It was obvious she was in extreme pain and refused to show it. As he stitched her wound, he looked at her metals and sneaked a peek at the picture in her pocket. He pulled it out and it warmed his heart. 

 

Written on the back read: 

_ My brother, my best friend, and my hero.  _

_ It was a picture of Mikhail holding her on his shoulders with the biggest smiles on their faces. The man was so tall it looked like he could grab the onion domes in the background. He smiled and could tell she adored him, so he promised himself he would keep her alive.  _

 

_ So he did.  _

 

_ And once she woke up, his entire life changed forever, he learned to fire a gun, she taught him to be fearless. And he tried his best to make her proud. Now that he saved her life many life many times, she now vowed to protect him.  _

 

Now in the present day, Nikolay was saving lives right under the Germans’ noses, betraying them and creating fake test results to keep them away from all the pain. “Drink up, Mikhail,” he said, handing him a small canister of water. “Slowly,” he added. “How’s Misha?” he asked, taking small sips. “She is well, I’ve done blood work on her and she seems to be mostly healthy.” 

 

“Good rest assured I would have your head if she wasn’t.” Mikhail playfully teased, but it still intimidated the younger doctor. Mikhail didn’t have a good way of teasing people, he just made playful threats of murdering them, all in good fun, of course. “Hofmeister seems to like her enough, he tells his daughter to take after her strength.” 

 

“Daughter?” Mikhail perked a brow. 

“Yes, she is beautiful on the outside but she really is ugly in her uniform.” 

“She may look better without it, of course.” he chuckled, finishing his water. 

“You damn  babnik!” 

 

Mikhail rolled his eyes. “You know it’s true, comrade. But really, I would rather not spend my night with that Nazi bitch, she will never be anything like  - she can die trying.” He snapped, his toned muscles aching from all the hard floors he’s slept on. “Here she comes…”

 

The sound of clicking boots, crisp blonde hair pulled into a tight bun, sharp eyes that could slice diamonds.  _ That  _ was the captain’s baby. “Look what the cat dragged in,” she remarked at Mikhail. “Yes, look at her, one would think the cat could’ve brought something nicer.” He smirked, feeling too full of himself. “What’s your name, boy?” She asked, walking over to him, looking down at him as he rested in the corner of the lab. “I’m no boy, yet a man of steel.”

 

“Then get up, how much a man are you really?” 

 

He accepted her challenge. Mikhail hated being challenged, let alone by a German woman. To his feet, he stepped into her space like a predator, glaring down at her like she was nothing but a target. “What’s your name,  _ boy?”  _

 

_ How  _ he wanted to slap her right there, but he held back his urges. “Mikhail.” He replied.

 

“You know, I don’t know why my father takes such a liking to that sister of yours. She really is an ugly sop.” 

 

“Shut your mouth, you German whore.” 

“Big words, Mikhail! Why don’t you come back to my office, your little sister is waiting for you. Come now.” She grabbed a handful of his hair and literally dragged him along. He twisted free from her grasp. “Don’t you dare touch me,  _ suka!  _ Keep those disgusting hands off me!” Nikolay has to intervene!

 

“Mikhail, calm yourself.” 

“Listen to him, Soviet. You may regret it. Come with me. Now. I’ll see how strong you soviets really are.”

 

She lead him to her father’s office and Misha was waiting for him. “Oh look who it is, Nora Hofmeister.” Misha groaned. Suddenly, Misha felt a hard slap of a cane across her face. “Do not address me unless you are spoken to!” A welt began to form on her cheek and she felt blood drip into her mouth. Her hands tied behind her, she had to tilt her head down to avoid swallowing blood. Mikhail raced to her, gently touching her cheek with his fingertips. “Is it bad?” She asked, moving her hands like mad to loosen them. “A little.” He cooed, pushing her hair back. “How sweet, but I want to test how strong you really are, Mikhail. You can move whenever you like, but if you do, your sister will take your place.” Mikhail was crouched in front of her, his back perfectly exposed for the beating. “I won’t let it touch you.” He swore, locking his fingers with hers. “Mikhail, please, don’t do this.” 

 

“I will do it and I will take it like a man. For  _ you.”  _

 

Nora ran the cane along his back, giving him gentle taps just to tease the skin. “Look at her, Mikhail. Let her know how pathetic you are.” 

 

And just like that, the cane cracked through the air, leaving a painful welt on his back. He groaned, gripping her hand with all his might. “One…” the German whispered, tapping his small. “Just do it!” He growled, his muscles so tight it felt like they were going to rip. “Two!” She hit as hard as she possibly could and Mikhail actually whimpered out, jolting forward. He gained his composer and looked up at Misha and smiled. “Don’t cry, Misha. I’m right here.” After those words, another slap hit his back, yet he was silent. “Misha, Misha… please stop-“ another slap. “...crying.” 

 

Now, again and again, Nora whipped Mikhail’s back, not even a second between each assault. “Mikhail, Mikhail, I love you so much.” 

 

“I love you too, more than you’ll ever know.” 

 

Nora’s arms grew tired, so his beating stopped… 

 

“No thank you? Ungrateful dog!” Mikhail blocked out her shouts and wrapped his arms around the lower half of Misha, enveloping her in his embrace. “You’re much too attached to that cow.” Nora snapped, running the cane along her hand. “Leave my brother out of the quarrel you have with me,  _ cyka.  _ Untie me so I can show you what a Soviet punch feels like.” 

 

Misha always could throw a punch. 

 

“Your poor brother really is a fool, I can’t believe he would take all this…” Mikhail knew that if he moved, Misha would be left in welts. “It’s a sham, a handsome thing is really being put to waste.” 

 

Mikhail worked his hands behind Misha and began to loosen the rope to relieve her skin. Misha really wanted to knock the smug look off the other woman’s face. “You’re a coward, I can see you hate me so deeply, so… why don’t you untie me and  **_FIGHT ME?!”_ **

 

“There’s nothing I hate more than a coward, and that’s  _ exactly _ what you are,” Misha added, loosening her wrists in the most subtle way possible. She taunted her abuser, hissing profanities and insults in the bit of German she knew. “Get up, I’m not done with you yet.” Nora nudged Mikhail with her boot and he tried his best to loosen the binds only a little more to hopefully set her free. “I said get up!” She shouted, hitting Mikhail’s lower back. After he was certain she wouldn’t strike again, he got to his feet and looked down at the German woman. “Are you done playing the hero? What are you gaining from sparring her the proper punishment?” Nora asked, playfully tapping his cheek. Not even flinching, Mikhail stepped into her space, giving Misha a few extra seconds to escape. “Because, unlike you, little apple…” he trailed off, his eyes piercing into hers like ice picks. 

 

“My father will deal with you.” 

And she left, storming off. Misha pulled her hands free and cupped Mikhail’s face in her palms. “You didn’t deserve this Mikhail. I’m so sorry. Can I… hug you? Your back…” 

 

Mikhail pulled her from the chair as got up. He pulled her close and looked at her eyes and saw his own reflection. “Please do.” Slowly, she wrapped her arms around him, being mindful of his battle wounds. “I should have taken your place.” 

 

“If I thought that, I would have moved. But I didn’t, I wouldn’t let anyone hurt my Misha while I am standing. Not now, not ever.” Mikhail looked behind to see her welts on his skin, sore and tender with each movement. Misha was listening to the captain’s footsteps, like war drums and an unholy battle roar. “Volvoka.” He said, entering the room. 

 

“I should kill you where you stand.”

 

“Calm yourself, girl, you make things so hard for yourself.” 

 

Misha seethed, clenching her fists together. He casually sat down at his desk, taking a sip of his coffee. “You met Nora, hm?”

 

“My brother did. Turn around Mikhail.”

 

As if showing his future scars off, he turned his back to the captain and couldn’t help but smirk. Misha was doing her best not to lash out but she did have some diplomacy. “What are you wanting, Misha? A red carpet?”

 

“No, Captain. I want to stop being abused and tested on like a menial rat. Do you have any idea what’s it is like to watch your family suffer from almost boiling to death? No! You don’t and I will NOT stand for this!” 

 

He looked unamused. 

 

“Misha, you are right, I don’t understand that, but really, I don’t care. You surely understand this. There’s only  _ one  _ thing I care about and that is my Fuhrur.” 

 

It was different, now  _ Mikhail  _ was the one who snapped. “You make that more than obvious, Captain. While your men  **_starve._ ** While you drink your coffee and leave your men in the COLD!” Mikhail walked to his desk, seething with pure rage. “You, Captain, make me sick. Not only are you a  _ Nazi,  _ but  _ your  _ men are starving and  _ dying.  _ And now,   _ you  _ freeze  _ my  _ men to  _ simulate  _ the front lines.” Mikhail took the liberty of taking a cigarette from the Captain’s front pocket along with the match. As he lit it, he inhaled the ivory smoke and let out a deep chuckle. “...perhaps you shouldn’t have come into  _ my  _ motherland in the middle of  _ goddamn winter. So now, you’re lost.  _ Your men have  _ no  _ place in my country, and I’d  _ really  _ love to escort you into one of  _ my  _ prison camps..” his words were chilling. Misha stayed silent and only watched her big brother rip into the German. “Mikhail, you are are a fool.” Hofmeister chuckled, clasping his hands together. “I see the anger - like any good man, I understand-“

 

“ **_YOU ARE NO GOOD MAN, don’t you dare compare yourself to me! You ignorant bastard, how dare you when I have saved hundreds of men, men that aren’t even serving under me, and you have done nothing but sit back on your ass!”_ ** Mikhail totally lost his temper, his nostrils flaring like an enraged stallion. “I am no hero, but I  _ am a good man, that I know.  _ The  _ nerve  _ you have, Hofmeister, it boggles me.” Mikhail leaned closer to the man’s face and watched him lift his brow slowly, looking totally unamused. “Mikhail, Mikhail, you see nothing but anger and where will that get you here? I almost pity you, my friend. Don’t you see what I’ve done for the people here? Grady should be thankful. Now, please go back to your cells, I grow tired of the stench of Russian wolfhounds. You’re dismissed.” 

 

Misha didn’t want to prolong this, but she knew her words wouldn’t calm her bear of a brother. She tenderly tapped her fingers on his shoulder and coaxed him over with a simple come here motion. Mikhail was a stubborn lad but the moment Misha entered his mind, he would follow her words to the very letter. “Come.” Like a puppy, he followed her out and still looked enraged. “Calm down, you’re going to get a stomach ulcer.” 

 

“That would be a gift at this point.” 

 

“I want to bandage your wounds, they’ll get injected.” 

 

“Stop worrying about me, Misha. We’ve been here for months and what have you gained from protecting me? I should be protecting  _ you.”  _

 

Misha scowled. “And you do protect me, I’m returning the favor. Don’t argue with me, not now. Now, follow me and be quiet.” Misha adored Mikhail more than words, she loved him so much that when he was acting like a bear wanting the honeypot and nothing else, she  _ had  _ to use tough love. 

 

“Da…” 

 

When they were back in their cells, Misha was already getting to work on Mikhail’s wounds. “I still want to make that little cyka pay for this,” Misha muttered, dabbing the wounds with a decently clean rag. Mikhail tried to hold still but the skin was far too delicate. He tried to hide his obvious pain but it was written in his muscle tension and sharp inhales. “Am I hurting you?” For some reason, the words replayed in his head a million times and he didn’t reply, his entire world was crashing before his very eyes. “Mikhail, don’t lose yourself. Stay with me. I’m right here, don’t leave.” He was sitting on the floor with his back turned to her, he was happy she couldn’t see his shameful, fear-ridden face. It was happening again and he tried so goddamn hard to fight it.

 

He needed to be strong for her, for he felt as he was her only hope in this hell. “Mikhail.” She crawled in front of him and he glanced up at her, her warm, loving eyes reminding him of his life. “Listen to me,” she whispered into the now darkening cell as night enveloped them. The pain went straight to his head and the flashbacks of his war injuries being treated played behind his eyes. He remembered seeing his men tending each other's wounds even one was missing a fresh leg. She knew how badly he hurt, and she was enraged she couldn’t do anything to ease his pain. 

 

“Everything will be alright, I’ll protect you, I will always protect you just as you have done to me.” Mikhail heaved, his heart beating so damn fast he thought it was going to burst from his chest. Misha could feel it through his back and she listened to it intently, keeping track of every slowed or fast beat. She put her arm around him and played with a piece of his hair, no matter how he styled it, the stubborn lock wouldn’t stay in place. 

 

“ _ Restless flames twist and toss on the stove, resin shines on the wood like a tear…”  _

 

_ “An accordion sings about love…”  _ the woman began to ease into song, hoping to bring his mind back. As he calmed down, he grasped her hand and gripped her fingers snuggly, cherishing her efforts.  _ “...and your eyes and your smile reappear…” _ Mikhail finished the line as Misha hummed the tune of the old song. “How long have we been here?” Mikhail asked, running his fingertip over Misha’s hand. “Too long.” 

 

“Seems about right,” he replied, letting out a gentle chuckle. “You know, a few of my men told me there was  _ quite a   _ pretty journalist lurking here, don’t know for what but really, I’m fed up with German women.” 

 

Misha rolled her eyes. “Think about her all you want but just hold still so I can clean these wounds.” 

 

“Understood soldier.” 

 

But that “German” woman was no German at all, yet a young Soviet woman. 

 

Sveta Bessonova; or going under the fake German name Petra Wittkamp, had been deployed to Grady to investigate the Stalag which Russian POWs were kept. Posing as a German reporter, Sveta saw many things she would rather erase from her memory bank but knew she had to keep her cover. Having an innocent looking face, she was able to trick people into thinking she was a harmless reporter. She was no fighter, but she could easily slip an arsenic pill into a man’s coffee. She could use a gun and she wasn’t afraid to use one, but she preferred quiet methods. She was armed everywhere she went, all her guns had silencers on them, making her a silent and deadly killer. The Volkovs had limited information on the spies among them, as they were painfully secretive. Even Mikhail, a seasoned man still didn’t know much about them. Sveta had been around the world, to America from Germany, she was well seasoned for her age, but that’s a trade secret. But now, she was in Grady, ready to take down whatever stood in her way. Knowing much on the Volkovs but they knew nothing of her, she had plans on finding them and reporting back to her men in the union. 

 

Having said that, Sveta walked with confidence along the wall of guards who were waiting for her arrival. “Captain Hofmeister, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” she shook his hand, her cherry red lips curling into a warm smile. “The honor is mine, Petra. Please, allow me to show you around, feel free to ask anything you like, we have made great progress with the subjects. Can you believe we are in the works of clotting gunshot wounds on the field?” 

 

“That is impressive, Captain. I see you are doing great things for this great nation of ours.” 

“I am so flattered you say so, but, follow me, allow me to show you around.” 

 

The clicking of her shoes rang through the halls as she snapped pictures for the paper. “Here are our cells, take a look, I will return shortly.” 

 

“Ja,” she replied with a smile. When she saw the Volkovs sitting in their cells, she was surprised to see them. “Good morning, may I take a few pictures of you, you both seem quite happy.” 

 

If it’s one thing the Germans were good at, was fooling the public. What they didn’t show was the piles of bodies burnt to a crisp in the back, or the starving children, yet the most lively looking soldiers. “What do you want, little miss? Here to laugh and gawk at us like a sideshow?” Mikhail asked, lifting a dark brow. “Quite the opposite, I’m a journalist reporting on the conditions of prison camps, my name is Petra Wittkamp, but please, call me Petra. May I photograph you?” 

 

“Go ahead.” He replied with a sneer. “Danke, Mister Volkov.” She snapped a picture of them. “How do you know my name?” he asked, getting to his feet. As he walked to the bars, the spy woman didn’t step back. She was dropping far too many hints… “I know many things, my dear. Now, why don’t you tell me where I can find the workrooms?” 

 

Misha was now getting suspicious. “Why are you asking  _ us?”  _  Volkova asked. 

 

“You’re the only ones around, I am terribly sorry to be a bother-” 

 

“It’s no bother, but… just go down that door and you’ll find a sign which leads to the workrooms. If you want the ones outside, ask Hofmeister to take you, you’re new here, so you will get lost.” 

 

Mikhail was quick to help her, but he really wasn’t sure why. Her pretty face did sway his judgment, but he could tell she was no Nazi woman. “Danke! You’ve been a wonderful help. If I need any assistance, may I come to you both?” 

 

Both siblings looked at each other, reading each other’s mind. 

“Do you speak Russian?” Misha suddenly asked. 

“Not much… why?” the reporter tilted her head in confusion. 

 

The two began to discuss her in their native language. Little did they know, she knew every word of what they were saying. 

 

_ “What do you think, Misha?”  _

“ _ Help her, she seems innocent enough.”  _

 

“Fine, we will be any aid you may need.” Said Misha, walking up to the bars. 

 

“You both are lifesavers, thank you endlessly. Good day to you both!” 

 

She smiled at them both and walked down the hall to the workrooms. As she did so, she looked around the room, taking pictures and looking for anything she could steal and send back to her homeland. Papers, papers, and more papers are what she needed, she couldn’t just waltz into the captain’s office and take everything she needed. She had to work her way up this point, even if it would take a while. “Enjoying your open world?” Klaus asked from behind her, lighting a smoke. “Ja, I am, you have done a fine job at the upkeep.” 

 

“How you flatter me, Petra. How is everything going? Do you have any questions? Would you like to see something?” 

 

“May I see your office, if that’s no trouble?” 

“I must decline, but I will take you to our experimentation rooms.” 

“Danke…” 

  
  


**_HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS!_ **

 

**_Back to the south,_ **

 

Apple pies and sweet tea were all being served at Scar’s diner, all freshly made by her very hands. Her lover boy walked through the doors and shook off the cold. “Look what the cat dragged in baby!” she called from behind her kitchen. “Maybe this kitty cat with serve me a nice slice of apple pie, hm?” 

 

“You got it, babe.” 

 

She cut him a fresh slice and chose her finest china it serve it on. “Made with love,” she commented playfully. “Oh, is that what makes it so sweet?” Valentine asked, lifting a heavy brow. He scanned her up and down, noticing her pair of rollerskates instead of her iconic white high heel pumps. “What’s with the skates, toots?” 

 

“Easier to get around.” She replied, watching him take a bite of the sweet. “And if you fall on your face?” he retorted with a mouthful of pie. “I won’t, and did you take care of our dixie preacher?” 

 

“Job’s said and done, he’s a thing of the past.” Scar knew what needed to be done but she never thought it would resort to killing her preacher. “Thanks, Val. Pie’s on the house.” 

 

“No, thank you sugar. I can’t stay long, I have work to do.” 

 

“Alright, thank you for everything.” 

 

And that everything broke her heart and it would not stop breaking. Everything she thought she could trust, betrayed her in the end. But Val? 

 

Never. He stayed by her side for a solid year and wanted to keep it that way for a long time. She was ignorant of the preacher’s death, and part of her wanted to know if Val made it painful or not. He wouldn’t tell her, of course, he wouldn’t risk breaking her heart like that. He wouldn’t tell her he choked on his own blood and was left hanging outside a dixie hideout. 

  
  


All she needed to know was he was dead - nothing more, nothing less. 

 

Her plans on joining the military still stood strong but she was still debating if she could drop everything at the drop of a hat… 

 

But for now, she just wanted to fill all of Tennessee with the warm scent of her kitchen and leave a trail of dixie boys behind her.  

 


	8. S Is For Svetlana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: War violence 
> 
> Mikhail is extra salty in this chap! :D Gotta love him, don't ya! :)
> 
> My inspo songs:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cJxMaUhRjc8  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MVuNAWY9Wrs

Sveta had woken up in the night, the floors creaking under her. Having slept in one of the guest rooms, she saw sleeping Germans in each bed. Quietly, she crept out of the room and shut the door behind her. Her steps were quiet and she didn’t miss a beat, counting each step in her mind to time it with the conversations of the watchman. She heard the captain’s in just the other room, ducking under the window in the door. “What was that?” asked a watchman.

 

“What was what?” Klaus asked, cocking a brow.

“It was nothing - almost everyone is asleep.

 

Svetlana felt lucky, but who would suspect the baby-faced reporter? Why no one!

 

“Well, let’s finish this tomorrow, shall we? I have to lock up.”   
“Ja, my captain. Goodnight.”

 

Sveta ducked into the shadows behind an open door into a storage room. Everything was going as planned. She was barely hidden from the flashlights waving around. Once the coast was clear, she peeked into the window of the captain’s office and saw maps locating where they would attack next, that is was what she needed.

 

“Captain?” she whispered into the dark, slowly emerging from the shadows. Looking so very sleepy, she rubbed her eyes and carefully tiptoed into the room. “Petra? What are you doing at this hour?”

 

“It seems I’ve lost my way, ja? May I come in?” He cocked a brow.

 

“I suppose.” He was tired, annoyed, but he would never turn down a lady’s company.

 

“I suppose you’re in no mood for questions,” Sveta mused.

 

“In the morning, if you may be so kind. But for now, may I offer you a drink?”

 

Simply perfect.

 

“That would be lovely.”

 

Sveta scanned the room like a sly little fox, her eyes fixated on those maps.

 

Klaus excused himself for a moment, giving her a few moments to slip something special into his drink. Nothing like a bit of short-term memory loss, hm? She slipped the mysterious pill into his drink, stirring it around with a pen. She took the liberty of tasting it herself to make sure nothing was off, she’d grown used to such things. Arsenic, snake venom, whatever else she injected into others, she wanted a bit of a taste, unless it would leave ugly wounds behind.

 

“I’m so sorry to be a bother, my captain, it is just I am not used to such… places,” she said when he walked back into the room. Everything was going so well, she was almost ecstatic!

 

He smiled, taking a heavy gulp of the drink. He lips curled into a grin, taking a sip of her own drink.

 

A few moments of silence had passed and the woman broke the ice. “Are you alright, you look famished. Are you warm?”

 

Sveta got to feet and crouched beside the now drugged captain, his skin turning pale. “I think I’m going to retire to bed, Petra-”

 

“Wait, you shouldn’t get up quickly.” She placed her hand on his cheek and felt his skin growing warmer with each passing second. “You have a fever, please, let me bring you a cold cloth.”

 

Off she went.

 

Moments later she returned with a cold rag and placed it on his skin. “Petra, I’m... I think I am going to-”

 

“Don’t speak, my captain. Let me bring you to bed, isn’t your room just beyond the door behind us?”

 

“Ja...Ja.”  His words were weak and shaky, he was too confused to question her random acts of kindness. “It’s a shame, my captain,” she trailed off, walking over to his desk, straightening his papers, folding the maps in half and placing them on the corner of his desk for easy grabbing.

 

“How you get this with no nurse around…” she smiled and pulled him to feet, he was wobbly and unsteady but he followed her with little problem. “To bed you go.” She pushed open the door with her knee and sat him on his bed, taking his keys straight from his pocket. “Goodnight, my dearest captain.” The moment she turned her back to him, the drug had worked it’s magic and he had passed out just then. She locked his door from the outside, leaving him behind without a second thought.

 

She took the maps and slipped them into her shirt for safe keeping and made her way back to her room, reading them over with only a flashlight under her sheets. She didn’t sleep that night, she spent all her time writing letters back to her higher-ups, slipping the maps into the letters, keeping pictures for herself. Once the sun was shining into her room, she took a few hours to rest up, starting a fresh day. She still had his keys and she knew who she’d place them on.

 

The new guard, the rookie! A perfect candidate for her tricks.

 

Into her clothes and slipped the keys into her pocket and made way like normal. To the cells to find the Volkovs, she saw Mikhail leaning against the wall, his eyes watching her every move. He looked so different from the day before. “Mikhail,” she started, her shoes clicking against the stone floors of the camp. If looks could kill, his eyes would have sliced her into ribbons just where she stood. “Why are you looking at me like I am Little Red Riding Hood, big bad wolf?”

 

He was in no mood for jests. “I don’t trust you, my sister will never trust you, and I want to make one thing very clear to you. Come closer.” He snapped, keeping his eyes glued to her. She took one step closer.

 

“Come closer, I don’t bite. What do you think I’m going to do? Turn into the wolf and eat you alive? I don’t think so. So, come closer so I can see you.”

 

On the surface, she looked intimidated by his behavior, but as  **_Sveta,_ ** she did not take kindly to his alpha intimidating nonsense. She held her tongue to save them both. If he dared laid his hands on her through the bars, she would be forced to neutralize him. He glared at her, almost salivating at the chops, he was losing himself in animalistic anger. He had no intention to ever hurt her, yet he was growing more and more wary of her; and in high stress, Mikhail lost himself and lashed out like a beast starving for fresh meat.

 

“Where were you last night, huh? Putting your nose in places where it does not belong? I know you were, I could smell that perfume of yours around these halls, you think I didn’t see you snooping?” He held back his temper, looking on the corner where Misha normally rests to see it empty. He was so on edge, he was ready to lash out at any given moment. He wasn’t really himself when she met him this time. He was truly a different person. She gulped.

 

“Mikhail, you need to relax and-”

 

“Ah, no. Answer my questions, Petra.”

“Why should I tell you when it has nothing to do with you, Soviet? Aren’t you the ones pressing your hound nose where it doesn’t belong?”

 

Oh, she set the flame under him. He actually laughed at her, grabbing her shirt through the bars and pulling her face closer to his.

 

Keeping her image up, she lightly resisted his force.

 

Mikhail despised Germans, more than anything in the entire world. And to him, she was nothing but  Nazi puppet relaying false information to the people. “We all know there’s a little mouse snooping around, and I know it is you. Everyone is looking for the Captain’s keys and something tells me that you have them… but where? Perhaps in your bosom where you know the guards wouldn’t dare to look? I respect you as a woman so I’ll settle for your eyes. When you are mischievous, we pay for it, we suffer, and we get the whips. Remember that you snake of a woman.”

 

He pushed her away and paced around his cell like an annoyed wolf, starving for food and water.

 

She couldn’t help but smile at him. “Come here, I have something to tell you.”

 

Without question, he walked to her.

 

The roles were changed and  _ she  _ pulled him to her. With a tight grip on his new shirt, she pulled his face into the bars and chuckled into her ear. “You have the nerve to grab me in such a way when I have saved your life? But I have one thing to tell you and I want you to remember it until death kisses you…”

 

_ “You will regret doing that, comrade,”  _ she whispered in his ear, a faint Russian accent sneaking its way into her German. “I want you to understand something,  _ big bad wolf _ , there’s so much you have to learn about me, and I hope you’ll be alive to see it.”

 

“Was that a threat?” He asked, liking his new title.

“I’ll let you decide that.” She ripped her hands away from him, shoving him back.

 

“And remember, Mikhail…  _ s is for Svetlana.”  _ She smiles at him, tossing him a lighter and cigarette. “Enjoy.”

 

Confused and wanting to rip out someone’s jugular, he took his stress out on the smoke she tossed him.

 

Patiently waiting for Misha, he looked down the hall to see her escorted by an angry looking guard. “For the last time, I didn’t take the damn key! Get your hands off me!” Misha snapped, putting up quite a fight against him. “Shut up, woman! If you keep resisting, I will  _ not  _ hesitate to send you back.”

 

“Step back, prisoner.”

 

Mikhail knew what to do…

 

He walked to the wall, putting his hands on the wall. He kicked her into her cell with Mikhail and she fell weekly on her knees, Mikhail lifting her up the moment he heard the door lock. “Misha, what did they do to you? Your shirt is ripped, don’t tell me they…” he trailed off greatly, putting his fingertips on her shoulder.

 

“Nothing happened, only I gave them hell, damned doctors didn’t believe me when I told them I didn’t touch that stupid key! Other than having salt water poured down my throat and almost getting my eye gouged out - nothing unusual happened.” Misha groaned, spitting into the corner of the cell, the saltwater still lingering in my mouth. She shook off the cold and hesitated to look at his eyes. “I saw Petra while I was there - she looked upset. What’d you do?”

 

Misha knew he would be the one to anger her.

 

As kind as he was, he was utterly losing himself with endless torture and suffering. Islands of violence hid behind his eyes and all he really wanted was the sweet release of a pulled trigger on someone’s head.

 

If the chance showed itself, Mikhail would have been soaked in fascist blood. He didn’t enjoy killing men, but he certainly enjoyed killing fascists.

 

“What did I do? You mean what did  _ she _  do. I know it was her who took the key and locked him inside - I swear to you she’s trying something sly.” He snapped, throwing a stray bottle in the wall.

 

“I asked if she kept the keys in her chest as no guard would dare look unless he wanted a slap to the face,” Mikhail added, stepping on the smoldering ashes.

 

To their surprise, Petra jogged down the hall with good news.

 

“Mikhail, just so you know, they found the key on the new man. Happy now, little wolf?” She smiled and tossed them both a peppermint. Mikhail was taken back, shocked, but he would never apologize.

 

Misha lifted a brow.

 

“Thank you, Petra. Despite my brother’s attitude, I am sure he is thankful. Isn’t that, dearest brother?”

 

“Da,” he said flatly, feeling foolish for his own mistakes.

 

“Please, it’s my gift to you both for your help. If you like them, I will gladly bring you more. You, Misha, like strawberry candy. And you, Mikhail, like peppermint.” She grinned and reached into her pocket for more. “How did you know?” The siblings said in unison, catching the candies as they flew through the air.

 

“Just a guess,” she smirked, shooting Misha a wink. Happily, they popped the candy into their mouths and enjoyed the now luxury taste. “I’ll see you two around, alright?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Now they were both confused as hell.

 

Sveta trotted off, chuckling to herself the entire way.

 

Misha was about to say something until Mikhail cut her off.

 

“I know what you’re going to say, so don’t say it, Misha!”

“What am I going to say?”

“Mikhail, you’re an idiot, she’s nice and you’re just mean.” he mocked, not doing a very good job at her voice.

 

“I wasn’t going to say that but thank you for giving me the idea.” Misha laughed, throwing her arm around her big brother. He rolled his eyes and gave her a surprise kiss on the cheek, making her laugh even more. They were miserable, deeply and truly miserable, but together?

 

The world lit up.

 

Now, Misha’s world was standing right beside her with vibrant blue eyes and a messy head of blonde hair. And Mikhail’s world? Why, he was holding her head against him, smiling and laughing.

 

That was her world.

 

**_Tennessee, United States_ **

 

Scarlett was finishing up her lunch hour, singing along to the radio, tapping her heeled foot onto the tile floor. She had made the big decision of leaving everything behind her and doing what her family knew best:

 

Stand up a serve. Uncle Sam was calling upon the ladies now, and Scar was the first to solute her country and wave her flag with pride and honor. She saw the mailman drop her mail off and she was eagerly waiting for a letter from Europe. Hastily, she rushed out to check to see if it arrived, and sure enough, it did! She was beyond pleased.

 

Carefully ripping it open, the letter read:

 

_ To my dearest friend, I hope this letter sees you. I hear you want to join your military, no? This is wonderful news, maybe I will see you one day. I do miss you greatly! Going back to England was a fine choice indeed, but it’s a shame I had to leave you. But you are the only one I can trust to tell, and guessing what you do, you shouldn’t mind knowing who I REALLY am. You are fond of Soviets, are you not? So unlikely for an Amerikantsy. I know that if you are found writing to an outsider you will be killed. It is best to keep your mouth shut and listen to me. _

 

_ There are only so many things I can tell you, but I trust you. My name is Petra, only that is the name I am going to give you, it is not my real name. Once I see you, I will tell you if you are alive long enough. I hope to see you in Grady, Poland. _

 

_ WIth love, Petra. _

 

_ P.S _

_ Your apple pie is still lovely, no one makes it like you do! _

 

Shocked and confused, she mouthed the words ‘ _ what in God’s name…’ _

She wasn’t angry, she really didn’t know how to feel. Everything she learned was seemingly a lie. It was all a bitter lie, but she didn’t feel uncared for. Scarlett folded the letter in half and slipped it into her pocket. Her plans were still the same, but now she was even more eager.

 

Her training would go well, as Scarlett already had a degree in nursing but never took action with it, but now? It really saw the time. The choice was huge, dropping everything, leaving Valentine behind to finish her dirty work…

 

She shook her head and ripped the letter to shreds as to save her skins, if anyone found out she was mingling with Germans or commies, a nice bullet to the head would be in her future. For the time being, she wouldn’t worry. Only a warm shot of whiskey would be a comfort.

 

Hours had passed and she forgot where she was, a half-empty bottle of whiskey beside her and a shot glass. Perhaps she worried a little too much.

 

“You’re awake.” Xavier chuckled, sitting beside her. “Huh? Val? What are you doing here?” Scarlett asked, lifting her head from her arm, lipstick smeared on her skin and around her lips. “Damn, girl, did you drop a pie, what’s got you so blue?”

 

She cleared her throat and tried to remember what really happened a few hours ago. “I just got to thinking, honey… I want to serve but I’m no fighter, most I ever done was pull a trigger and that ain’t fightin’. I don’t want to leave you, or mama, and I certainly don’t wanna throw away everything and regret it.” Scar rubbed her eyes and grabbed a paper towel to clean the lipstick from her face.

 

Val was surprised by her words. “You don’t wanna… leave me? Well, what the hell is so special about me to hold you back, Scar?”

 

“Because you’ve been with me for a year, do you think I care so little to throw that on the ground? No! You have stood by my side all this time and never left when I opened the door for you to return to New York. There ain’t nothing here for a man like you, I mean, damn! You’re a detective and you save lives-” she cut herself off with a loud exhale, popping the top back on her whiskey. Her eyes were drained of life and eagerness, her drunken haze only hours before now left her with a raging headache and a sea of emotions. “Why, Val, why? Why have you stayed so long when you have the world at your feet? You’ve got a real pretty face, smart as a whip, and good at what you do! This little town ain’t nothing but backward racist hicks and ‘whites only’ signs, and you?”

 

Everything was rushing back to her in a blurry, unfiltered haze.

 

Taken back by everything she said, Valentine cleared his throat and gently put his hands on hers, interlacing his fingers with hers.

 

“I stayed because of you, Miss Rose. You said it for yourself, but  _ you  _ are different.  _ You are not like that.  _ You’re no hick, nor are you stomping around with a damn white hood with a torch in hand. I’m here to see you burn them down, I’m here to help you tie them in a noose, I’m here because… well, because… a girl like you is hard to come by. Ain’t every day you stumble across a gal with a fire in her belly and under her backside to keep her moving. That good enough for you babe?”

 

She smiled weakly.

 

“I think you did a mighty fine job convincing me.”

 

About a day had passed and Scarlett had gathered all her things, kissed her mother and gave her a final salute, kissing her wedding ring on one knew.

 

“Promise me you will come back alive, my sunshine.”

 

“I promise.”

 

Scarlett never broke a promise and she intended to keep this one.

 

Xavier drove her to the port where she would train. “Hey, Scar,” Val broke out.

 

“Yeah, hun?” She looked over at him with bright and delicate eyes. “Listen, I’m heading back to New York for a bit, not sure if I can handle the dixie punks without ya, I promise I’ll be back  _ when  _ you return, kay, sugar?”

 

Surprised by his words and a little sad, Scarlett only nodded before mustering the words. “Alright, Val. You will always hold a special place in my heart, even if you’re a Godless boy,” she replied with a chuckle. “Despite that, I can’t help but love you for all you’ve done for me. Stomp a few Dixie skulls, before you go, alright? I gotta run, babe. See you ‘round.” She kissed his cheek and trotted up to her Sargent with the other future combat nurses. She stood tall, awaiting any orders.

 

Having been settled, every future soldier stood in a row, a very cruel looking drill sergeant inspecting them. Scar was ready for anything.

 

“What’s your name soldier?!” The man shouted right into her face.

“Scarlett Rose, Sir!”

“Rose, huh? What brings you here?”

“To serve and defend my countrymen, sir!”

“Are you ready to defend all your countrymen and women?”   
“Yes, sir!”

 

On her first day, she was totally drained from all the training, crashing into her bed, hoping to get at least a moment of sleep. But, being a rookie, she was bound to be stepped on, and stepping all over her wasn’t an option.

 

Come the next morning, breakfast was served and she was so very polite in the lines until a hulking man behind her shoved her into the woman in front of her.

 

“Excuse me, what the hell is your problem, kiddo?” she replied, briefly apologizing to the lady in front of her. “Fresh meat, huh? What will you do for some extra grub?”

 

“Certainly nothing for a little punk like you. Now, will you take a step back?” She was growing very very annoyed with the soldier, though she kept her cool the best she could. Getting into trouble on the second day? Hell no!

 

She didn’t dare turn her back to him, lest she wanted to get groped like a doll. “Listen, there’s been no gals here and you know how it is. Being around guys all the time? It’s real nice to see a fresh face.”

 

He brought his hand to her shoulder and even she didn’t expect she would react so violently.

 

“Get your goddamn paws off me, you punk!” she shouted, shoving him back as hard as she could. “Get the hell out of my sight, you disgusting, unkempt, animal!” Rosey yelled, her nostrils flaring like a protective mare over her little filly. It was unlike her to show such volatile behavior but now she was really finding herself. She was  _ not  _ going to be stepped on. The woman in front of her liked her fiery heart. “She’s right, step back, kiddo,” the stranger intervened, putting her hand on Scar’s shoulder. The man didn’t want to make more of a scene so he only scowled and shot her a nasty glare. As much as she wanted to continue the confrontation, she was just hungry.

 

“What’s your name, hun?” The woman asked.

“Scarlett Rose, ma’am!”

“Scarlett, huh? Preacher’s girl?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Nice name, Rose. I’m Angela, but most people call me Angel.”

“Angel suits you, you seem to have been my guardian angel a moment ago.”

“Maybe I was. Come on, let’s get some grub.”

 

Scar didn’t expect to find a friend on the first day, but it seems like the angels were really watching over her. Once they got their meals, they had sat together and began to share stories about each other. “So, Angel, can I ask you something?” Scarlett chimed, taking a sip of the milk they were given.

 

“Sure,” Angela replied with a smile.

“How old are you? Why did you join up? I mean, I ain’t trying to be rude but-”

“Haha! Don’t worry, Rose! I’m 18, I’ve waited all my life to serve. And really? My whole family was killed in the war, I can’t be a no housewife when I come from a family of heroes… I wanna make a name for myself, you know?” She felt her eyes go misty, but what kinda soldier would start crying there?

 

Sniffling, she hid her fears with a chuckle and wolfed down the food. Scarlett knew what was going on and she didn’t want to really push the issue. “I’m sure everyone would be proud of you, sugarplum. I know I already am! But, enough talk, let’s eat.”

 

So they did, chowing down their meals like the last thing they’d do. Rushing into the training yard, Angel and Rose seemed to stick together, keeping a watchful eye out for any randos.

 

As for now, they only had physical training for endurance; something Scarlett prided herself in.

 

“Are you ready, soldiers?” Asked the Sargent, letting them scan over the course: rope climbing, crawling under barbed wire, jumping over wooden planks and a light body of water for swim training; which the water gave Rose some pretty shaky memories. “I want everyone to understand, it is not, “One woman for herself,” we are a TEAM. Now begin.”

 

Like a stampede of horses, they all ran to the course. Scarlett leaped over the wooden hurdles, the tips of her boot barely grazing them. Angel was right beside her, almost keeping up with her new comrade. Angela had tripped over the hurdle, falling to the ground and skinning her arm. Scarlett stopped to pull her up, holding her hand as they both jumped over the next set. Onto the rope climbing, Scarlett jumped to grab the rope, struggling to pull herself up. Grunting and heaving, she made her way up the rope, her arms growing tired already. She was no military woman, but who says she couldn’t work to that point?

 

She made it to the top, she slid down the other side, her hands burning and aching. Under the barbed wire, she went, her shirt was snagged and ripped when she gripped the dirt to pull herself closer to the finish line.

 

When she made it to the water, she briefly looked at herself before jumping in with open eyes. Swimming to the surface, Scarlett peddled herself through the water. All she could think about was slipping off that cursed dock, gasping for air and screaming for a hand to grab her. Once she made it to the land, she heaved and coughed up water, padding her chest firmly, forgetting about everything around her. Until Angela, patted her back, urging her to come forward. As they both ran to the final test, climbing up a rope wall. Scarlett was already dying on the inside.

 

Angela nearly jumped and grabbed the rope several feet into the air, extending a hand to help struggling Scarlett. “Come on, Rosey! Grab my hand! I’ve got you!”

 

Scarlett looked up at her, grabbing her hand as she put her boots on the rope. Angela didn’t let go until Scarlett got a hold of the ropes and started climbing herself. They helped each other like no other, seeming to become best friends over the day of knowing each other.

 

Finally, they made it. After all the struggles and trials, Rose and Angel looked at each other and just started laughing at the top of their lungs, seeing each other with dirt-stained faces and a bit of blood from the barbed wire. They all got in line and waited for their judgment.

 

“Miss Rose,” started the Sargent.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“You have done well today, helping your fellow friend in combat. Such things are rewarded, you do not want to drag your mate back while they bleed out, no? It is obvious you care. You did well, Miss Rose.”

 

Scarlett was surprised but was deeply thankful. “Thank you, ma’am!” She gave a solute and the rest of the team seemed to follow her. “A good leader, I see. Off to the showers. You all have earned it.”

 

And just like that, 7 months had gone by with intensive and cruel training.

 

Every single soldier was accepted and all we sent to different parts of the world.

Scarlett was sent to aid the British in Poland, along with Angela, to her surprise, scored highest in her training.

 

But what happened all those months in Grady?

 

While Americans were being deployed over the world, Summertime hit Grady, semi-warm heat waves were much better than blistering cold.

 

Petra gained all she needed, documenting all that happened over those months.

 

Misha and Mikhail were still alive, though they wished they were dead by now. Almost a year in the camp, both of them were aching for release.

 

Mikhail was 36 now, though he still felt like a fiery stallion. Svetlana was feeling the pain of keeping up a fake image for those months, she wanted so badly to tell the Volkovs everything, confessing all everything she did and why.

 

Resting in their cells. Mikhail had his head on Misha’s shoulder, looking so drained and tired. Misha was the same, all her spirit was gone and she could only think about dying; they were both surprised they were still alive.

 

“Will we ever make it out of here?” Misha chuckled, turning Mikhail’s face to her.

“I don’t know, Misha. I really don’t. I’m just… so happy you’re with me now.”

“Why… why say that so suddenly? Is something on your mind?” she asked, sitting up, wrapping her arms around her knees. “Something is always on my mind, and that’s surviving and keeping you safe. I remember holding your hand tightly as Nikolay bandaged your wound, I remember thrashing to get to you, I remember shielding you from the harsh lashes of Klaus’s daughter, seeing you cry, your tears rolling down my back.” he stopped his words to interlace his fingers with hers. He took a heavy inhale, his chest rising and falling. Slowly, he opened his tired, and dull eyes, moving them to look at her. “And I remember so much happening all at once, all I wanted to do was keep you safe, taking any and all bullets for you. To think it’s really been a year.”

 

Misha wasn’t sure what to say, yet she only gripped his hand tighter, bringing it to her face to nuzzle. “It really has been a year, hasn’t it?”

 

“Da.”

 

Misha sighed, the sun shining right on her face from the cracks in the walls. “I couldn’t even get you a birthday present,” she huffed, scooting closer to him.

 

“Pfft, you are my birthday present.”

 

“I am not! You always got me something, so why can’t I get you something? Be quiet Mikhail.”

 

He rolled his eyes, pursing his lips.

 

“Don’t make that face,” she scolded gently.

 

Before Mikhail could reply, they heard the clicking shoes of Petra coming down the hall.

 

“Good evening! Long time no see, hm?” Petra chimed happily.

 

Over those 7 months, Sveta did her best to make friends with them in secret, but Mikhail never really cared too deeply about her. “What do you want?” Mikhail asked, using that “I kind of like you” tone.

 

Petra reached into her pocket and tossed them both a handful of peppermints. “I want nothing, but I do have something to tell you.”

 

“On with it then,” Misha said, now wondering what she had in mind.

 

“There’s news of an invasion of this camp in only a few months, you two are soldiers, are you not? Will you be ready?”

 

Mikhail shook his head. ‘Did I hear her right?!’ he thought to himself.

 

“I will fight for no German, neither will Misha. What do you take us for?”

“Not what I meant, Mikhail. I mean, you two better take action once everything starts.”

“We have no guns or uniforms, are you daft or dreaming?”

 

Sveta laughed, pressing her dark red lips together. “Maybe dreaming, you never know. But, it was only a question, Mikhail.”

 

The way she said his name killed him, it was so smooth, like water sliding off glass. It infuriated him almost, the way she spoke so casually. “But truly, I have a feeling you two will rise up, you are Volkovs anyway…” she smiled at them, giving them another handful of candy. “See you around, comrades.” she waved goodbye, again with her footsteps, ringing down the hall.

 

“She’s weird,” Misha stated.

“Very weird,” Mikhail replied.

 

Petra knew the face of the camp, only she could not spill the beans now, it risked damaging all the plans. Soviets would raid with the Allies in the winter, freeing and liberating all soldiers inside. The Volkovs forgot such freedoms…

 

While Misha and Mikhail contemplated in their cells, little did they know, American faces were miles away, on the outskirts of Poland, hundreds dropped from the skies. Scarlett and Angel were still sticking together.

 

Getting settled in with camps, Scarlett took a moment to take in the area, the vast mountains looking so different; her little town was a memory of the past now. “Nurses, do you all understand your duties?”

 

“Yes, ma’am!”

 

“Send scouts, report back if there’s German activity, do not hesitate to strike.”

 

Scarlett took in a deep inhale, the cold air filling her lungs. Everything she ever knew was gone, America was miles away, there was no apple pie in arms reach; there was certainly no horses to ride. All the things she loved, were gone.

 

“You okay, Rose?”  Angela asked softly scanning the mountains all around them.

“Simply peachy,” Scar replied, basking in the fresh, cool air.

 

Luckily for them, the fields were quiet, so it gave them a moment to sit together and chat. Scarlett was quite the talker, always something on her mind…

 

She gripped her crucifix necklace and tucked it into her shirt after she placed a gentle kiss on it.

 

Scarlett felt a little too close to the Reds for her own comfort, though that was probably just her American brain speaking; she  _ did  _ have a prejudice towards them, but like any American in these war times. “Peachy, huh? Glad to hear it, Scar.” Angela replied, throwing her arm around Rose’s shoulder.

 

Their first night was easy, it was virtually perfect and peaceful. Both the girls slept easy, eager to see what the morning would give them.

 

Scarlett was the first to wake up, watching the sunshine over the skyline, basking in its warmth. Everything flashed back to her, dancing with Xavier, serving at the diner, crying in front of the church alter, begging and praying for the safe return of her father. She prayed every day and night for his return, sobbing and confessing every sin to God and his angels. Her  **_old_ ** life, her old self, the old everything.

 

Suddenly, she was alerted her team would be sent to the front lines to aid British Allies in liquidating a POW camp nearby. “The trucks will take you, Godspeed.”

 

Angela looked at Scarlett and they both knew they could easily die in one another’s arms. But they were ready for it. “Let’s go.” Scar said, helping Angel onto the back of the truck.

 

***

 

It was bad as they expected, flying bullets, screams of agony and suffering, often mixed with the cries of happiness for those who were escorted out of the camps.

 

They all went to work, aiding those with bullet wounds and blown off limbs. As Scarlett began to drag the British soldier to safety, she felt small, sharps metal moving around in her close, though they did not cut her skin…

 

“Come now, I’ve got you, I’ll get you taken care of.” Her words were a comfort in the heat of battle, dragging him to a safer place to wrap him up. Behind a building, she began to clean his gunshot wound to his stomach. “Lass…” he coughed, his movements making him bleed out even faster. “There’s no hope for me, please, save the others, don’t waste your supplies on a dead man.”

 

“You are no dead man! I will not leave you to die!” she shouted, patting the sweat from his head. He spat out blood and it began to drip down his chin and mouth, staining the ground beside him. Away she went, working on the wound, digging out the bullet with her tweezers, she gently turned him over to see an exit wound, she saw a huge amount of blood on the ground. “Easy, please stay calm, I am not giving up on you, soldier,” she cooed, already knowing his tragic fate. His face had gone pale and he was close to his dying breath. “Nurse…thank you… for your service.”

 

His dying words.

 

Left in shock, Scarlett was horrified she could not save him. She wanted to cry so badly but her eyes felt like sandlots. “Why couldn’t I save you?” 

 

She shut his eyes, no dead man should die with open eyes.

 

Scarlett did her very best to save the rest of them, doing the same thing, dragging them to safety where she could treat them. And she saved many men that day, with bloodstained hands she saved as many as she could.

 

The camp was smaller than the rest, so the attack didn’t take days to finish, yet a night was enough to complete the task. Once everyone was freed, Scarlett nearly lost her life by a German sniper, the bullet barely missing her skull. It grazed her helmet, only a loud bang replayed in her head a million times over. She ducked for cover, looking down at her bloodied hands, her eyes fixated on the running crimson liquid. It wasn’t safe to leave cover.

 

She rested against the stone walls, knowing someone would take him out. “It’s safe now, Scar,” Angela said, extending her hand to the woman. It was next morning already, it all happened so quickly.

 

Scar grabbed her friend’s hand and exhaled deeply, looking at the bodies all around her. “You did well, Scarlett. We saved many men today.”

 

Angela was optimistic, giving her a smile. “Come, there’s still many who need aid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like i used too much dialogue in this one -_-


	9. From Foe To Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> songs:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cJxMaUhRjc8&list=LL6D_71uqwry462CZEhajBCw&index=6
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IM_ZzcjKlmM
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nx41OFlAyns
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jIlmCtfsYbE
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hgR3BPW0nnE
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tddBVFFXaGw

It was a warm summer afternoon and the Volkovs were sitting together, as usual, talking among themselves, sharing old stories of their childhood together, and fond memories. “Mikhail, you really need to cut my hair,” she spoke, throwing her legs over his lap. He placed his hand on her knee, gently tracing the outline of her bones. “You’ve lost weight, too much for me not to worry. How about I make you some… blini? Or maybe solyanka?” he suggested, perking his brows at her. “Whatever you want to make me, I’ll be pleased with it. But now? I swear I could eat anything…” 

 

“You can take a bite out of my arm,” he joked. 

 

Before she could reply to that comment, the Captain made his presence known. 

 

“What do you want, cyka?” Misha snapped. 

“I want the both of you to follow me,” Klaus replied, gesturing for them to get up. “Come now, get up.” 

 

So they did, Mikhail stepped in front of Misha and grabbed her hand so she could follow behind. Misha gripped his fingers tighter when the Captain walked beside her. 

 

When they made it to his office, Petra stood in the corner, with her arms crossed, tapping her foot on the floor. “Miss Wittkamp tells us there is news of us being invaded in the coming months and our manpower is rather low at the moment, we have lost many men over the winter. Poland is brutal, isn’t she?” he smiled at them and pushed a cup of coffee towards them. “Drink.” 

 

“No.” They said in unison. 

 

“No matter, I care not about a cup of coffee but my manpower, you two are skilled fighters, Soviet-trained and as much as I despise your nations, they produce well-rounded fighters.” He inhaled on his cigar, the smooth and deep flavors dancing on his lips. The siblings looked very annoyed, holding their arms over their chests. “I am asking you to join our army to defend our camp - you will be rewarded highly.” 

 

The fires were set under them both. 

 

“ _Are you blind?”_ Misha asked, not even trying to hold back her fiery tongue. “You idiot! You damned idiot! Haha! Do you really expect us to fight with you after everything you have done to us? After you tortured us and killed our men, invaded our country?!” Misha was now yelling at the top of her lungs, her Russian accent much more apparent in her fit of rage. Her hands shook and her breaths were ragged, but no matter, she would not bare her tongue. 

 

“Let me remind you of something: my _honor_ and _dignity_ , I hold them dearly, and if you think some offer of “ _glorious freedom_ ” is going to sway me;  _ you are dead wrong _ .” 

 

Mikhail chimed in, eyes are fierce and dark like a wolf. 

 

“There is one nation we defend, one flag, and one motherland we will serve, and it is not your fascist nation. It is our beloved Union, the motherland, the workers and her people.” 

 

Mikhail clenched his fist, his nails digging into his skin, drawing a bit of blood. 

 

“Your devotion is noteworthy.” He said calmly. “But you would be given freedom, don’t you understand?” 

 

“I am not free if I betray my people and serve the very people I vowed I would slaughter,” Misha added. 

 

The siblings looked at each other, feeding off of each other’s energy, much like a wildfire feeding off the wind. Petra was pained to see her comrades suffer. “Very well, though as your punishment for denying such a grand opportunity, meet Nikolay in the testing lab. You don’t want me to ask the guards to take you. Now, go!”  

 

They stormed out and they both kicked the door shut without turning their backs. “How dare he talk to us this way…” Misha muttered, looking back at the door, seeing it had been kicked past the hinges. “Don’t worry about it, Misha. Don’t waste your energy on such things.’ 

 

Misha was much more reckless than her older brother, though it may be a surprise. Suddenly, Misha had stopped in her tracks and started rubbing her knees, the aching getting more apparent. “Ahg, my legs,” she groaned, leaning against the wall. “Misha-!” 

 

“I’m fine, I’m fine. I just need a moment to rest.” 

“All the time in the world for you,” he replied gently, crouching beside her. 

 

“Do you want me to carry you?” he asked, his beautiful, ocean blue eyes looking into hers. “I wouldn’t ask you to do that when you haven’t eaten properly, comrade.” She huffed, finding herself losing her breath. “I can carry you easily, there are men twice your size I’ve slung over my shoulder,” he joked, patting her shoulder. 

 

She looked at him, a faint smile forming on her lips. 

 

He won her over like he always did. 

 

Mikhail turned his back to her and stood on his knees, feeling her lean into him. He slipped his hands under her knees and hoisted her up, carrying her piggyback. 

 

“Like old times, da? Remember I used to carry you around over the mud so you couldn’t get your shoes dirty?” He chimed, happy memories flooding his mind. 

 

Misha smiled. “I remember clear as day, it’s all I really think about these days. Well, take me to the finish line, horsey.” 

 

_ FLASHBACKS: THE ARAGVI, MOSCOW _

 

The entire crew was out for lunch, only now Mikhail was waiting on his lady, Dominika. Anton and Vladimir had already ordered and waited until everyone was there to begin their lunches. “Where’s your girl, Mikhail?” Anton asked, taking a sip of the glass of water. “With Misha, I assume. When they’re together, they hardly notice the world around them. Nika is always fashionably late.” 

 

Just as he said the words, both Misha and Dominika came walking through the restaurant doos, dressed in formal attire and pitch black sunglasses over their eyes. They took them off at the same time, folding them up and placing them in their purses. “Both of you look simply beautiful.” Mikhail chimed, leaving his chair to greet them. He kissed both of Nika’s cheeks and escorted her to her seat, pulling the seat. “Misha,” he said, kissing her cheek as well. Misha went to sit beside Nika until Mikhail stepped to her side to of course get the chair for her. “Did you order yet?” Nika chimed, resting her chin in her palm. “No, we were waiting for you ladies,” Vladimir replied, pushing two glasses of water by them. “But we did get you waters, Mikhail says you don’t drink, right, Nika?” 

 

“Right, that’s one thing he gets right,” she chuckled. 

 

“Oh really now, Nika? Well, don’t get me started on the time you burnt-” 

 

“Don’t try me, Mikhail. Remember that time I was helping you train and I completely won you over?” 

 

“You cheated!” 

 

“Of course you think that. Misha, can you hand me the menu?” 

 

“Da.” 

 

Everyone looked through the menu. 

 

“Ladies and gentleman, are you ready?” the waiter asked. 

 

Mikhail gestured for Misha to go first. 

 

“I’ll have… the zharkoye. Nika.”

 

“Solyanka, please. Vladimir.”

 

“Pelmeni.”

 

Lastly, Mikhail.

 

“Knish, and please, could the ladies also get Morozhenoe once they are done.”

 

“Certainly. Thank you.”

 

Both girls looked at each other like they were reading each other's mind.

 

They were certainly flattered by his order for them, though they assumed he was trying to win them over, since only the day before, he managed to push their last buttons. When they trained together, all Misha, Mikhail, and Nika, he had a way of stepping on a very very high horse.  _ Oh? Did that make you mad? Then why don’t you show me how mad you really are, hm?  _

 

_ Is that the best you can do?  _

 

Mikhail really was a trash talker when it came to training with the closest girls in his life, if it was one thing he loved, it was riling them up in a match. All in good fun and the girls knew that that still didn’t stop them from holding grudges. Which he actually liked it when they held a grudge, it gave him the opportunity to show off and lavish them. Vladimir could almost hear what they weren't saying. 

 

“Ladies, please don’t kill Mikhail in public, I don’t even have my camera.” 

 

“Like they could.” 

 

“Oh, now he’s lucky he got us ice cream.” 

 

“I would have gotten it for you anyway, even if you didn’t want to kill me.” He added, an oh-so-charming crooked smile forming on his lips. Both girls rolled their eyes. 

 

Times were sweet in this moment of their lives, Mikhail, being a fool, Vladimir with his comrades, and the girls smiling and laughing. 

 

Everyone missed that. 

 

Vladimir had known them all for years, only a few years younger than Mikhail, at 28, he knew Misha when she was a young girl, often keeping her company when Mikhail was away. 

 

Their bond was like no other, both would give their lives up for each other. 

 

**PRESENT:**

 

Mikhail looked behind him and saw Misha half asleep, her head resting on his shoulder. Hating to wake her from her slumber, he nudged the door to Nikolay open with his knee, ducking under so he didn’t bump his head or his sister’s.

 

Nikolay looked pained, but that wasn’t really new. “Comrade,” Mikhail said, looking decently happy to see him. Mikhail didn’t hate Nikolay, but nor did he really cherish him now.

 

Times were hard for them both; trying to keep alive in this hell while working against each other. 

 

“Mikhail, Misha,” he said in return. He was in no mood for talking, yet his blood was boiling with sheer rage. 

 

Mikhail lifted a brow. 

 

“Something the matter?” he asked, slightly pulling Misha up on his back. 

 

“What’s right anymore?” Nikolay replied, clenching his fist. 

 

Before they could continue, two doctors walked into the room, skimming over papers. 

 

Mikhail had no choice but to disturb Misha. 

 

“Hey, sorry to wake you but please, wake up.” 

 

Misha lifted her head and rested her chin on his shoulder. “That’s the same man who tortured us both.” Misha whispered into his ear, pain laced around each word.” 

  
  


“Dr. Vogel....” Misha added, her eyes narrowing like she was going to shoot a bullet where she rested. 

 

“Give us the girl, the Captain has instructed a special test for her. Drop her.” 

 

Mikhail had to think so quickly, he wasn’t just going to hand her over like that! He had the upper hand on them, of course, but that didn’t make it any easier. 

 

“No.” He said flatly. 

“No isn’t going to get you out of this, hand her over,” Vogel replied, sounding much more annoyed than before. 

 

“What is it you want her for?” 

“None of your concern. Hand the girl over. I am not asking another time.” 

  
  


Misha wasn’t afraid for her own life, yet Mikhail’s. 

 

“No, I said no, you aren’t having her, you dog,” Mikhail growled, looking back at Misha to see her looking worried and confused. Maybe it was foolish of him to act such a way, though he wouldn’t give Misha up for anything in the world because she was his world. 

 

Nikolay stepped between the two, trying to make the peace. “Doctor, please, they have been through enough-” 

 

“Silence, you Soviet swine! Know your place!” Nikolay knew if he acted out, all three of them would pay. 

 

Mikhail sneered, boldness and bravery dripping from his being. Finally, Misha chimed in. 

 

“Isn’t it funny how you strip us of weapons and uniforms to forget who we are? Are you afraid?” Misha chuckled. “Put me down, please.” She whispered to Mikhail. 

 

He lowered himself a bit so she could hop off him. Surprisingly, she walked in front of Mikhail to stand face to face with her current target. “Misha-!  
  
She only lifted her hand to silence him. He was behind her and that was all she ever needed. “Listen to me, you disgusting creature,” she started, walking closer to him. “Make it quick.” Voleg groaned. 

 

_**“You have no place ordering me around!”**_ Misha shouted, only seeing in a blind rage, his words set a flame under her. She thought she forgot her soldier instincts until she saw a knife on the table only a few feet away. Mikhail was proud her for thinking so fast. 

 

Quickly, she grabbed the knife and plunged it into his thigh, his cries of agony ringing into the room. To everyone’s surprise,  _ Nikolay  _ acted quickly, grabbing the other doctor and stabbing a needle into his neck, injecting him with an unknown substance. 

 

Misha saw nothing but red, pure redness straight from the fires of hell. 

 

She ripped the knife from his leg and kicked him to the ground, relishing the look of fear in his eyes. 

 

_“Don’t worry, the pain will stop soon!”_ She mocked, pounding his face in with brutal punches. Misha’s eyes were crazed and filled with fury and rage, her fists covered in blood from the series of punches. 

 

_ “Won’t this stop the bleeding?!”  _

 

Both men were really shocked by her reactions, she had held in so much rage and now it was spilling from her very soul. 

 

Misha grabbed her knife again and stabbed him at least twenty times in the chest, blood splashing all over her face and sticking her hair to her face. “You Germans are doing so well!” she mocked again, throwing the knife to her side. 

 

There she was, she had just brutally murdered the man who caused her and her brother so much suffering. Covered in blood and gasping for breath, she looked down at what she did. 

 

Half questioning how she would hide this, half wondering where she got that strength. 

 

Mikhail rushed to her side, moving her hair out of her face only to have her turn her head to him. “Now we really do have to escape,” Misha said, putting her hand on Mikhail’s shoulder to pull herself up. 

 

Nikolay gulped and thought of a plan for their grand escape. “We have to leave now, I am not blaming Misha for her reaction but I did set this up, I had high hopes she would act this way.” Nikolay exposed his plan, giving them both a half smirk. Just as he said that the Soviet spy appeared from the door where the doctors came from. 

 

“Mikhail, Misha,” Sveta chimed, not minding the scene too much. 

 

“You know me and you may hate me, but I will explain it all once we are out of here. Follow me, I have already taken Anton and Vladimir to safety. We must hurry.” They trusted her after Nikolay mentioned her, but they were still suspicious… 

 

“Come, we don’t have much time. We may barely escape.” 

 

The siblings looked at each other for few seconds before grasping hands and following Petra beyond the door and into the hall. When suddenly, another doctor had seen them, before he could say anything to alert the other, Petra’s razor-sharp senses saved them all. 

 

She pulled a handgun from her blazer and shot him between the eyes with little effort. Mikhail looked at Misha, brows knitted together. They could read each other’s minds at this point. 

 

Down the hall they went, Petra halted them, seeing a few guards watching over the cellar. 

 

“Wait here,” she whispered, giving them a light smirk. She took off her high heels and moved like a silent killer with footsteps as quiet as a church mouse. 

 

The rest of her followers were hidden just behind the door, watching her with only their eyes peeking into the hall. 

 

A cloud of smoke obscured their vision and all they could hear were some muffled grunts and bodies slamming into the floor. Faint gunshots could be heard- but it was no normal gunshot. The soldiers mumbled to themselves, waiting for her cue to come out. 

 

“Follow me,” Sveta called, standing there back in her heels with three dead men by her feet. 

 

They put her puzzle together - she was no ordinary woman, she clearly had some form of training - but they didn’t get to see her in action without smoke clouding their eyes. Quickly, they followed her, examining the entry wounds in their foreheads for only a second.

 

Small, that was no normal gun. 

 

Mikhail noticed Misha beginning to slow down, holding on to him tighter than she was before. 

 

Her mouth was bone dry, she could feel her energy draining slowly; she was trying to damn hard to keep up. She was frustrated and didn’t want to slow down the rest. 

 

“Misha, hold on a while longer.” Mikhail cooed, his sparkling eyes giving her an ounce of hope. “How could I forget,” Sveta chuckled to herself. 

 

“Drink up, Misha. It’s not much but it seems like you need it the most.” 

 

Sveta tossed her a canister of water she’d stolen from one of the guards before planning the great escape. 

 

Misha wasted no time to drink up, offering the last bit to Mikhail. “I’m fine, you drink it.” 

 

Mikhail wasn’t fine in reality, he was starving, aching for even a bite of old bread.

 

They made it into the cellar, Sveta had already cleared all the men when she took Anton and Vlad out to safety. “Just this way, dugouts have been made so the soldiers can make clean escapes in case of attack - they really are foolish.” 

 

The Volkovs had a light of hope when they had a fair chance of escape, everything would be a memory of the wicked past. Trekking through the cellar, Misha tripped over several tools as they were traveling in the dark. Mikhail couldn’t risk her falling and hurting herself on the hard ground, so, he literally swept her into his arms and kicked the items in his path to the side. Only a while longer they would find the door leading to the underground tunnels. Mikhail put Misha on her foot and they’d all ran to the door, Sveta quickly picking the lock once more. Finally, the inviting face of the damp, underground met them and the air was painfully thick, so thick they all struggled to breathe it. 

 

“We’re almost there,” Mikhail breathed, putting his arm around Misha’s shoulder. 

 

They made it out of the trenches alive and they were outside the stone walls of the prison camp, but surely they wouldn’t have gotten out to smoothly. 

 

“Listen to me, you have to run. And I mean  _ run.  _ There are snipers all along these walls and they will get you. Vladimir was only grazed by a bullet. But they  _ will  _ blow holes in you.” Sveta warned them, looking off into the tree line that seemed to be miles away. “Understood,” the Volkovs said in unison. 

 

Petra stayed behind, keeping watch until they made it to general safety. “Go, waste no time, comrades.” 

 

They ran like hell, not looking behind them even for a moment. It was salvation for them, running into the wilderness in the warm summer. The snipers already locked eyes on them and began fire, bullets flying through the air. 

 

The snipers decided bullets were no way to handle them; yet impacts grenades. 

 

Everything flashed before their eyes when the grenade was flying through the air. 

 

Mikhail knew they would die if they didn’t dive away from it. To Misha’s surprise, Mikhail shoved her as hard as he could, pushing her away as far as he could manage. The grenade landed in a small crater in the ground, shaking the trees around them by their very roots. The impact of their air pushed them all around. Mikhail’s attempt to dive behind the tree failed miserably. In his own defense, he didn’t want to have a limb blown off. 

 

He felt a heavy impact on his ribs, making it bite so hard on his inner cheeks he had to spit out blood. The smoke and dirt were flying around, he was confused and disoriented. “Misha…!” he groaned in sheer agony, the weight on his ribs growing even heavier. Once the dirt had settled after around thirty seconds, Misha screamed in horror when she saw Mikhail. He lifted his head to see a tree branch on his abdomen, slowly crushing his ribs. He struggled to breathe, it hurt so damn badly tears formed in the corners of his eyes. “MIKHAIL!” Misha screamed, rushing to his side, ignoring the possible shards of metal in her back. 

 

“His ribs are probably broken,” Nikolay suggested, trying to lift the large branch from his comrade. 

 

“Agh… you can make it… out of here. Go, go.” Mikhail urged, the words barely escaping his strained body. “No, I’m not leaving you!” Misha replied, trying desperately to move the branch. “Misha! Listen… to your lieutenant!” He coughed, trying desperately to breathe under the weight over him. Misha ignored him and both the Russians teamed together to lift the branch from him. 

 

Mikhail felt the weight lifted from him and he could breathe a bit easier. He had only minimal room to crawl from other the branch. He rolled out from underneath it and could not restrain his groan of extreme pain, gripping the dirt with his hands. 

 

For once, Misha actually heard him scream in sheer pain, it wasn’t often he lost himself so much. 

 

At least three of his ribs were broken and he felt them ache every time he inhaled. He looked up to see the stalag, grateful he made it out alive, even if he was experiencing the worst pain of his entire life. 

 

“Mikhail, please…” cried out, grabbing his hands.    
  
His entire body was burning, his chest was heavy and he tried to regain himself with shallow breaths. His screams of agony had turned into groans and heaves. He tried to damn hard to get to his feet, Misha and Nikolay were doing everything they could to help their fallen comrade.

 

“Petra told me she knew a camp whom would help- she seems to know many people.” 

 

Mikhail couldn’t speak well, he was gripping his stomach in pain. 

 

He tried hard to keep shallow breaths, but it was so painful since he had just finished sprinting as fast as he could.”Come on, Mikhail, don’t give up. Stay with me.” 

 

Nikolay had to stop them and examine the wound. “Mikhail, I have to look at your abdomen, hold still.” 

 

“Da…” 

 

He accidentally inhaled too deeply and get a shooting pain through his body, each mistake he made, he suffered greatly. 

 

Nikolay lifted his shirt and saw the skin had already bruised, his skin was tender and anything too sudden would hurt him. “I have to listen to your breathing. Take slow, shallow breaths.” 

 

He held his ear to Mikhail’s chest and listened deeply into his breathing, hearing the sound of bones grinding together, like crunching snow under a pair of boots. Mikhail was having a very hard time focusing on himself, all he could think about was staying alive.

 

Nikolay sighed. 

 

“Fractured ribs. His lungs are fine, he will survive this, assuming his ribs do not move too much and pierce his lungs or other vital organs.” 

 

Misha was holding back tears when she heard the words but she knew she had to be strong. “Mikhail - stay with me, stay with me. It… will be okay!” She was trying to lie to herself but she really knew he had a chance of dying - even a small one meant a lot. Mikhail struggled to walk, he was leaning more and more into her, his feet tripping over each other. The pain was so bad, he was so confused and out of breath. “Mikhail, please. Just a bit longer!” She laughed, tears slowly breaking their way into her words. Misha was trying so hard not to lose herself in the moment. Mikhail raised his head to briefly look at her. “Don’t cry, pojalusta.” 

 

He hated to see her cry. 

 

Misha shook her head and was no dragging him along the way. “He needs to rest,” Nikolay chimes in. 

 

Misha gently lowered him to the ground, resting his head on her lap. Mikhail grabbed Misha’s hand and raised it in front of his face, looking at the sun between her fingers. Misha was sniffling and holding back all her tears and emotions. “You’ll be alright, Misha.” He breathed slowly, interlacing his fingers with hers. 

 

“ _ I’m here.” He gripped her fingers tightly and brought her hand to his lips to gently kiss her bruised knuckles.  _

 

“I’m so tired,” Mikhail whispered, getting comfortable in her lap. “Shhh, don’t talk.” She whispered, her other hand petting his hair. Her tears were dripping onto his cheeks and he faintly smiled. “Why? Why are… you crying, myshka? It’s going to be alright.”

 

He was still so sure of himself.  

His eyes were slowly closing and Misha was looking at him the entire time, petting his hair the entire time.

 

“That’s nice,” he muttered, opening his eyes to still see tears running down her cheeks. He only smiled and rubbed his thumb along her hand. “It’s okay, Misha. I need to rest for a moment.”

 

He never grew tired of giving her comfort when she needed it the most. Sooner or later, he was fast asleep on her lap, still holding her hand. Now she was getting tired and they’d yet to receive help. 

 

And Misha fell asleep too. And Nikolay stayed beside her and watched over them both as they slept. 

 

Several hours had passed and they all were taken from that spot and rode in American trucks with Petra- who would explain everything to them. 

 

Scarlett, Sveta’s most trusted friend was asked for the job and she did, telling the others prisoners had escaped a German camp.

 

“Hey, honey. Wake up.” A gentle voice cooed to Misha. 

 

_ Scarlett!  _

 

“Rise and shine, sweet thing. You took quite the damage. Only a mild head trauma but you’ll make it.”

 

Misha looked around and backed away from the American. 

 

“Who are you? Where’s my brother?” 

 

Scarlett smiled gently and placed her hand on Misha’s leg. “Relax. My name is Scarlett and your brother is resting and stable. Your friend - Petra asked us for help and I’m glad she did. Rest now.”

 

“Wait. Wait!”

 

“I’m very busy, honey. Rest.” 

 

Scarlett left the tent and Misha signed, looking down at herself to see a different pair of clothes. They were fresh and clean, a big change from before. Before she knew it - she was asleep yet again. 

 

Mikhail was still sleeping in his tent. Scarlett tiptoed not to wake him, though the moment she looked at him, his eyes slowly opened. “You’re awake.”

 

“I didn’t notice.” He retorted.

 

Slowly, he sat up and instantly regretted it. 

 

He groaned deeply and gripped his abdomen. She ran over to him and placed a cold hand on his back. “Easy, you have three broken ribs we think and you need to take it easy. I’ve given you painkillers to help you.” 

 

Mikhail ignored everything she said and only replied with “your hands are  _ really  _ cold.” 

 

He was already getting on her nerves but he was certainly entertaining. “It seems you do the opposite of turning a mole hole in a mountain.Well, I’m sorry my hands are cold but I saved your life only a few hours ago, sweetheart. Now, take a breath in for me.” 

 

He struggled to breathe in, the pain growing deeper in his chest. “Good. You’re doing great.” She supported him the whole way through, rubbing his back after she was done. “And I’m turning what into a mountain? Could you repeat that or are the painkillers going straight to my head?” he asked, not understanding what the hell she said. Scarlett tried to hold back a laugh, which made him even more confused. “Never mind,” he groaned, rubbing his temples. Scarlett cleared her throat.

 

“Is there anything I can get for you? You’ve had such a long trip.” She asked, looking at his face, seeing several cuts on his cheek. 

 

“Your name?” 

 

“I’m Scarlett Rose, and who might you be?”

 

“Mikhail Volkov. Where’re you from? You’re no Soviet.”

 

“United States.” 

 

“American, huh? Never met one before.” 

 

“You have now,  _ ruskie.”  _

 

Mikhail lifted his brows at her, not knowing if she was insulting him or just calling him what he was. 

 

“Well, American, you are a long way from home,” he started, his eyes glancing at her cross necklace. “So, why don’t you get comfortable here in Grady? I’d take you to Moscow if I had the chance.” he sat up a little more, looking at the bandages on his arm. “You saved my life, huh? How can I make it up to you?” 

 

Scarlett dabbed a cotton ball in a bit of rubbing alcohol. 

 

“You don’t have to make it up to me, honey.” She said, crouching down beside him. She gently grabbed his jaw and turned his face towards her to dab the wounds. “Hold still, I can’t numb you unless you want me to slap you, though, I’d  _ never  _ do that to you,” she chuckled, carefully dabbing on his cheek, watching his lip twitch like a bunny’s nose. He didn’t pull away but she could tell he really wanted to. “What happened to you, anyhow? Three broken ribs and cuts all over you… you poor thing.” She said, re-dipping the cotton. 

 

He shifted, quietly groaning as he felt the bones move. “Grenade, ahg… it hurts so damn bad,” he muttered to himself, gripping his body again. Scarlett felt terrible for the poor man, he was in so much pain and there was little she could do. 

 

“A grenade was… thrown at us as we ran from the Stalag.” he started, looking up at her with the brightest blue eyes, much like hers, only his looked lifeless and dull. 

 

“The snipers couldn’t get us; I’m glad Misha wasn’t up there shooting at us, we would have been dead within seconds.  But anyway, I saw it coming… as I looked behind me, and I had no choice but to shove the others away.” memories were flooding back to him and he gripped his fists, blaming himself for his own injuries. “I could have prevented this,” he thought aloud, shaking his head in shame. Scarlett continued to clean his facial wounds. “It ain’t your fault, Mickey.” 

 

“What’d you call me?”

“Your name is hard to say, can I call you Mickey?” she quizzed, gently applying a band-aid to his cheekbone. 

 

“Sure, it’s kinda cute.” 

“Mhmm… continue your story, please.” 

 

He nodded before she grabbed his jaw again to hold him still, he was rather restless, sleeping for almost twenty-four hours straight… 

 

“Right after I tried to get out of its path, it exploded and the trees around us shook like thunder…” his eyes went dark and he looked devastated for thinking about such a tragic tale. “The dust around us was… flying and I could not see, all I could hear was Misha’s screaming and I didn’t know why until I regained myself,” he paused and shut his eyes, envisioning the tree branch on his again. “I looked down and felt like my chest was going to implode from all the weight on me.” When he opened his eyes, he saw Scarlett’s eye rather close to his. She felt her hands moving through his hair, checking for any more gashes she needed to see. 

 

“Both my comrades tried to help me and I urged them to go, leaving me because I wanted them to have their freedom.” 

 

Scarlett chuckled, leaning away from him. She put her hand on his bare shoulder and smiled faintly at him. 

 

“And you made it through, they wouldn’t leave their friend behind. What else do you remember, hun? That is if you don’t mind telling me. I hate to pry, but you are an interesting case here.” 

 

He smiled and shook his head. “I don’t mind at all, krasavitsa…” his tone deepened as he ended his sentence. The feeling of her hands looking through his hair relaxed him beyond compare. 

 

“I remembered rolling over away from the branch and just… screaming. In agony, the pain was like no other I have ever experienced. I was tortured for a year and nothing made me scream like that. Only at the camp, I was too numb to feel anything. I was either almost freezing to death or shock was my best friend.” 

 

Mikhail could see she was listening intently, resting her chin on her palm, lips slightly accentuated. He didn’t mind the view at all. She’d just finished checking him out for more wounds and he came back mostly clean, she was glad on that fact. 

 

Scarlett tenderly touched his face, her nails tickling his skin. 

 

“You look healthy enough better than others I’ve seen.” She walked to her kit and searched for a bottle of painkillers for him. 

 

“For an American, you’re not too bad.” he joked, giving her a smile when she walked back to him. 

 

“For a commie, you’re not too shabby yourself. Bottoms up.” She handed him the pills. 

 

“I swear I look better in… other circumstances.” he retorted, despite having broken bones, that wouldn’t stop him from being a little cheeky bastard. He took down the pills with no water, he swallowed hard and shook his head to erase the bitter taste of the pills. 

 

“Who said I had a problem with your appearance?” she retorted, shooting him a playful wink. 

 

“I have to run for a little bit, okay, Mickey? I’ll check up on you shortly.” 

 

“I’ll be waiting patiently, Roza.” 

 

***

 

Sveta could drop her cover in front of the Volkovs, it was strange nonetheless. 

 

“Petra! Hi! Are you holding up okay?” 

“Hello, Scarlett! Do you have a moment to spare for me?” 

“Sure do, honey. What’s on your mind?” 

 

The spy woman took her to the back of the US camp. 

 

“Scarlett,” Sveta said flatly, letting her Russian accent flow freely like a river.  

“I can only hope you will forgive me for living a lie all this time, though I am not who I say I am.” 

 

Scarlett looked confused, lifting one brow. 

 

“What do you mean? Your letter confused me.” 

 

“You’ve already met two Soviets, only you’ve known me all this time. My name is Svetlana Bessonova…” she paused, her words trailing off her red painted lips. 

 

_ “And I am a Soviet spy.”  _

 

Scarlett was surprised, but not shocked. She didn’t care she was a Soviet, as Scarlett didn’t hate them, only she was irked she was lied to for so long. “I trust you enough, I can see it in your face. You won’t tell, will you?” 

 

“Of course not.  I swear on my country.” Scarlett had such mixed feelings on the Soviets, she supported their cause and what they were doing, she would only be hurting herself if she snitched. 

 

“Because if you did… Well. You don’t know what I do to people who betray me. Luckily, you won’t find out.” 

 

Svetlana’s smile really was chilling, yet she looked so friendly. 

 

But really, she was distant and hated people. Which is why she hated being Petra. 

 

Petra loved people. 

 

“I’ll be seeing you, Scarlett,” Svetlana patted her shoulder and acted like nothing had happened. 

 

“See you around, cowgirl.” Scarlett had to process everything all over again. 

 

All while checking up on Misha who was fast asleep in her tent. “Misha, darling, I hate to wake you but I have to make sure you’re okay.” 

 

Misha lifted her head and saw the American woman smiling tenderly. 

 

“American?” Misha asked, totally forgetting her face. 

 

“Relax, I just saw your brother-” 

 

Misha immediately scurried to her feet. “Mikhail, is he alright? Can I see him?” 

 

“In a moment, Misha. And he is fine, well rested and should make a speedy recovery but he can’t do anything strenuous, his ribs will heal on around one or two months. He is on heavy pain medicine to help him breathe. Don’t worry.” 

 

Misha had a huge weight lifted off her shoulders. “Now, you Misha, need to rest up yourself. Your brother told me about the blast and you suffered the least with only a contusion. If he didn’t push you away, it would have been much worse, you could have lost your life or been induced into a coma.” 

 

“Well, thank you for helping us. Nikolay? Is he alright?” 

 

“He’s been helping the others, he only suffered a gash on his back from the shrapnel hitting him.  Overall, you all made it out smoothly. Well done.” Scarlett was heavy with her praise with them, wanting them to trust her as a friend. “Go back to sleep, Misha, you need it.” 

 

“I will, but can I see Mikhail first?”

 

Scarlett knew she wouldn’t let up. 

 

“Go ahead, he’d be happy to see you.” 

 

Misha wasted no time to see him, though all the pain in her body slowed her down. 

 

She barged into his tent like a bull in a china shop and basically collapsed beside him, throwing her arm over him. 

 

“Ahh, watch the ribs.” He said sarcastically. He kissed her forehead and tilted her head up to look at her.  “Wait a moment… what is this?” he said, running his index finger over her cheek. “What, what?” She asked, falling right into his trap. “I don’t know… has the nurse seen this?” 

 

“Seen what?! What are you talking about?!” she urged, looking extremely confused and worried. 

 

“These… These cheeks! They are so pinchable!” 

 

He pinched her cheeks and her expression of worry turned into a poker face. 

 

“How hilarious do you think you are?” She asked, trying to keep a straight face but a smile slowly crept across her face. 

 

“You seem to think I’m hilarious. When do you not laugh at my jokes?” 

 

“I laugh because they are painfully not funny.” 

 

“Sure you do…” 

 

Mikhail smiled widely and pulled her head down to his chest. She started to laugh and felt so happy for the first time in a year. “What’s so funny, myshka?” he asked, trying to hold back a laugh himself. 

 

Misha was laughing hysterically, so much her eyes started watering.

 

“Hah...Hah! I was just thinking of that joke you told me from the time I was little… hah.” 

 

“What was it?” 

 

“Why did the bear paint his toes red?” she asked, still not being able to keep a straight face. 

 

Mikhail knew where this was going and he knew it would make her the happiest girl in the world if she got to finish the joke. 

 

“And why, little Misha?” 

 

“Because he wanted to pick strawberries without the farmer knowing!” 

 

At that moment, Mikhail chuckled deeply, having to contain his laughter due to his ribs. 

 

“You’re silly, Misha.” 

 

She finally stopped laughing and wiped her tears of joy. 

 

“It feels good I can finally laugh freely with you.” Mikhail pulled her up to sit on the edge of the bed with him. “As if you didn’t make that obvious enough. But I agree, seeing you so happy brings me great joy.” 

 

She looked down at him and kissed his cheek. 

 

All was well in the world, the Volvoks were happy again and really? 

 

In that moment that all they cared about; was each other and their jokes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect I'd get this chapter out in a week and have it be almost 7K words <3  
> With a lot of effort put into this chapter, I strongly hope it was enjoyable to those reading!!


	10. A Moment Of Peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> basically, I died.   
> songs:   
> the beach - the neighborhood   
> built for sin - framing Hanley   
> forget you - dysn   
> too much BiS + 4POST to link

Scarlett wanted to learn more about the Soviets she saved the day before, though she feared a language barrier would prevent many things. So, she had her new found friend Nikolay lend a hand. 

 

Which, he’d taken a liking to her, finding her rather charming and entertaining. She gave the camp life, something he took far too often in the Stalag. “Howdy, Nikolay.” She chimed as he sat on a bench sketching something onto his papers, though he seemed rather secretive about what it was… 

 

“Privet! Kakti, Roza?” Nikolay happily greeted her, though he totally forgot she was a strictly English speaker. 

 

“Can you repeat that for me? You must be forgetting something pretty important, Ruskie!” 

 

“Oh! Right… Then hello, how are you, Rose?” 

 

“Thaaaaat’s better. And I’m peachy, getting used to hanging around Ruskies.” 

 

“Peachy? Is this a good thing?” 

“It sure is… what are you drawing, anyhow?” 

 

“It’s nothing! It’s stupid, really, don’t worry.” Nikolay was a terrible liar and Scarlett could see that from a mile away. 

 

“Well,  if it’s nothing - can I see?” 

 

Nikolay huffed, blowing a strand of hair out of his face. “Fine,” he looked at his drawing for a final time before flipping the book to Scarlett’s eyes. 

 

She was stunned. 

 

“Oh, my stars, Nikolay! It’s beautiful! It really looks just like her.” 

“Shhh!! Keep your voice down, I don’t want her to hear.” 

“Who? Misha? I’m sure she will love it!” Scarlett blurted out. 

 

Nikolay’s cheeks turned into a vibrant pink and he his face in his hands. “Roza, Roza, please do not tell her! I’m begging you not to tell her. I’ll do anything for you to keep it a secret, I won’t be mad if you tell her but-” 

 

“Sunshine, cool your jets. I’ve got you! Our secret.” 

 

Nikolay sighed heavily and clasped his hands together, being so thankful she agreed. 

 

“Thank you, thank you. I hate to cut this short but I’ve got to check on a few things.” 

 

“See you around, hun.” Scarlett chuckled to herself, finding his drawing of Misha extremely endearing and sweet, though she wouldn’t say anything!  

 

Scar went to check up on Mikhail, who seemed to be taking a liking to her, which she didn’t mind at all. 

 

It was around noon time, the sun was shining on the little camp, a pleasant breeze was flying in and it reminded her of her homeland. “Mickey?” She chimed in, peeking her head into his tent. He was asleep, the blankets kicked off him. She tiptoed in, picking up his blanket and covering him up with it. When suddenly, he jolted awake and began to heave, only to feel that familiar pain in his chest. Scarlett placed a hand on his shoulder, comforting him with gentle humming. “Easy, easy, you’re alright. Bad dream?” she asked, rubbing his back tenderly. Which she didn’t mind feeling his well-earned muscles under her skin either, though of course, her first intention was to relax him! 

 

“Bad dream? I wish I could call it that.” he caught his breath and groaned from the pain yet again. “What happened? Wanna talk about it?” 

 

Mikhail gave her a peculiar look, he didn’t want to feel that vulnerable. 

 

“You actually want to know or are you just messing with me?” he asked, his attitude running deep in his blood. 

 

Scarlett pursed her lips together and gave him the annoyed mother look. “Why would I be messing with you, Mickey?” She quizzed, sitting on the edge of the bed with him. “Listen, you don’t gotta tell me if you don’t want to - but you will not give me attitude when I supply your painkillers, kiddo."

 

Scarlett knew what kind of person he was in the brief interaction she had with him; no one put him in his place because people were  _ afraid  _ of him when they didn’t know him. 

 

But Scarlett handled angry stallions in a field of mares, so she was confident she could handle a little Soviet attitude. Mikhail looked at her and if she were anyone else, they would have felt his wrathful temper. 

 

“Like I _need_ those damned pills,” he retorted spitefully, acting like the total man of steel he was. 

 

He didn’t trust Americans, he was friendly with Scarlett and Angela, though now, he was rather temperamental from all the pain he was in. 

 

“Oh really, big man? I’ll see how long you think that once you start hulling your ass around here. Oh wait, you _couldn’t_ do that because you have **_BROKEN_** ribs, you stupid man!” Scarlett retorted back to him, just as fiery as he was. He liked that, gave him a bit of entertainment. 

 

Mikhail was at a loss for words, she wasn’t wrong about his statement but he didn’t want to admit it. 

  
  


“You don’t have to hide your pain when it’s written all over your face, sugar. So, what’s got you in such a pickle with your sleep?” 

“Night terrors. I have them almost every night,” he admitted, acting like they didn’t make him miserable. 

 

“I have them too,” she said, giving him a slight smile. 

 

“They started after a week of being here, seeing war with my own eyes and having to dig bullets from flesh with my hands? It does something to you, you know?” 

 

His face went soft and he instantly regretted snapping at her before. Now, he was the one listening to her nightmares. 

 

“I had another one when we found a small camp of Germans out in the woods, planning their way into the Union. We took them out and I will never forget their faces and what they said to me.” 

 

Mikhail turned his body towards her and gave her more room to sit next to him. 

 

“I’ll never claim I am innocent by any means, I have killed men before, I have kicked them off stools and left their body’s hanging from trees, only to see it in the newspaper days later.” 

 

Mikhail knew she had pain hidden under those pretty blue eyes, much like he did. 

 

“I see no difference between a few Dixie bastards, which I don’t expect you to know of them but… they’re bad men. Disgusting men.” 

 

Mikhail put his hand over hers and tilted his head like a puppy. “Dixie?” he asked, now getting curious. 

 

She shook her head, never expecting to be telling this to anyone. “The trash of America, Ruskie. Racists, drug dealers, and most of all, murders. They’d be waving swastikas if they could. They ain’t fond of colored folks, and that kinda thing isn’t  _ my  _ America. So, I grew tired as hell with them intimidating the fellas at my diner. I took action into my own hands and stomped out- leaving their bodies to hang.” 

 

Mikhail was impressed with her skills and he supported her with all his heart. “Sounds like you know what’s right in a bad world,” he chuckled, looking at the scars on her hands. 

 

“All I want to do is bring a light in this dark world, kinda like Jesus, you know?” 

 

“I’m no religious man,” Mikhail commented with a shrug. 

 

“You don’t have to be, you still bring light into this world with your existence. You’re a hero.” 

 

“How do you figure?” He looked over at her with a cocked brow. 

 

“Your darling sister told me all the good things about you.” 

 

“How am I not surprised…” 

 

Scarlett chuckled and reached into her pocket to find his painkillers. “Take ‘em,” 

 

Without question, he swallowed them dry. The bitter taste of the dissolved pills lingering in his throat and tongue. “Can I at least get a damn kiss after you don’t give me water to get these down?” He jested, clearing his throat. She popped a kiss on his cheek, gently grasping his jaw. “Happy now?” She asked, seeing the remnants of her chapstick on his cheek. 

 

He grinned, satisfied with his smooth. “Yes, I am, thank you, krasavitsa.” 

 

Again with the damned Russian. 

 

“You’ve said this  _ twice, not once!  _ And you’ve  _ yet  _ to tell me what you mean by such a comment.” Scarlett was so damned confused with all these Russians around - though maybe she’d pick up on a few things. 

 

Mikhail gave a hearty laugh. 

 

“I’m only calling you what you _are_.” he retorted, scooting a little closer to her. 

 

“And what might that be, cowboy?” 

 

_ “Beautiful.”  _

 

Scarlett raised both her brows and only gave a simple “hmm…” 

 

“I’m glad you think so, Mickey. But really? I don’t wanna hear how pretty I am because that’s something I’m quite aware of. I want to learn more about you, Ruskie.” 

 

“Like?” 

 

“Anything you want to tell me.” 

 

Mikhail thought for a minute, a lock of his hair falling out of place when he tilted his head down to think about her question. 

“Well…, my  _ name is  _ Mikhail Vladimirovich Volkov, I am a lieutenant, guard captain… and I have 190 confirmed kills.” He was proud of all his titles and his kill count, it did give him large bragging rights. 

 

“And… I formerly worked at a steel mill for a long time, I  _ was  _ going to school for chemistry but never did anything with it.” He shrugged, not bothering to go into more detail on that part of his life, as even he wanted to forget that. 

 

“Well, God almighty, you seem to have been places, huh?” 

“Oh, maybe. But I’m sure you’re much more interesting than I am, Roza.” 

 

Scarlett rolled her eyes. “Oh really, now, _Ruskie_?” 

 

“ _Daaaa_! No need to be shy, Roza. I don’t bite.” 

 

“On one condition.” 

 

“Da?” 

“I don’t want to hear another _Russian_ word out of you, you could be insulting me and I’d have no idea.” 

 

“You’d know. But fine, that’s a deal.” 

 

Scarlett grinned and now got to thinking herself. “Well, pretty boy, my name is Scarlett Opal-Jane Rose and  _ I  _ run a diner in a little town in Tennessee, which I doubt you even know where that is… but if I had a map, I’d show you. But anyways,” she started, feeling his eyes watching her every movement, though he wasn’t looking at her like she was prey or a slab of meat, yet someone he could protect. 

 

“I am a mighty fine cook, which if I had an oven, you’d be eating real fine! What else can I tell you? I tell you, I am not too deeply interesting, but I suppose I’ll tell you what you might find of some interest.” 

 

Mikhail was taking a great interest in her, never meeting an American before her.

 

“Please, go on, I do like hearing you talk,” he said kindly. 

 

He was genuine and sincere with his words, loving to hear the words the words spill from her lips. 

 

He observed the little things she did, the way she pursed her lips when she was thinking, or how she tapped her foot when she was listening, he really did find it adorable. 

 

Before they knew it, the sun was setting a chill was starting to weigh in. 

 

Scarlett found herself getting rather tired and famished, though one of her MREs were still laying around somewhere. 

 

“Can I go back to speaking Russian now?” Mikhail asked like it pained him to speak strictly English. 

 

“I suppose so.” 

 

“ _Spasibo_!” 

 

“Whatever that means, cowboy.” 

 

Before Mikhail responded to her, he reached under his bed and grabbed a small box of goods. 

 

“Hungry?” he asked, opening the box up with the tab key. 

 

“Very,” Scarlett replied. 

 

He sorted through the MRE, tossing her his rye bread. 

 

“If you think I am eating all this without giving you any, _you’re wrong,” Scarlett said_

 

“Guess I’m wrong then. Eat it, I haven’t seen you eat a single thing all day. Eat.” 

 

Well, she couldn’t argue with him there. “Fine, fine.” She replied, taking a bite of the sliced bread. 

 

“Dry,” she said with a mouthful of bread. 

“I know,” he joked, sorting through the rest of the ration. They were only made for one, at least his was, but he could not stand to eat while she had an empty stomach. “I am going to assume you don’t want the lard?” 

 

“No thank you. In fact, I don’t **_WANT_** any of this, it’s yours.” 

_“Do you Americans have no sense of sharing, or does the bank live in the home as well?”_ he chuckled, taking a bite of the carrots also provided in the ration. 

 

“Well, I suppose you aren’t wrong. But, I’m not the one with fractured ribs.” 

“ I don’t think that changes my appetite, malysh.” 

 

Scarlett shrugged. 

 

“I suppose not-” 

 

She was cut off by the sound of a loud gunshot, ringing through the camp. 

 

“Wait here, you are not fit for a fight.” 

  
  


He was hugely insulted by her words but he couldn’t fight against it. 

 

Scarlett darted from the camp and heard a huge laughter ring through. 

 

“Angel? Misha?” 

 

Up they were, in the trees hunting for deer. 

 

“Don’t worry, Scar! Start a fire, please!” 

 

Misha jumped down from the tree while Angel climbed down, Misha stood at the base waiting for her. Like a gentlelady, she caught her hands as she took the last hop down. 

 

Scarlett rushed to start a fire, noticing shirtless Mikhail in the corner of her eye, breathing in the fresh mountain air. “Your sister is a damn fine shooter,” she called swiping her matches to strike a fire, they were being awfully stubborn for her. “I know, who do you think she learned from?” He smirked, walking over to Scarlett, the pills doing their job in making his breathing easier. 

 

“Need help?” he asked, genuinely wanting to help her out. Even if he did have second intentions, his first goal was to start the fire, even if it meant showing off his biceps. 

 

“Let’s see you strike a stubborn match then, _cowboy._ ” 

 

“Alright…” 

 

He walked to her and crouched behind her, hovering his chin above her shoulder. She felt his body heat instantly warm her in the cool evening. With his arms in front of her, he stuck the match with little effort. 

 

“That wasn’t so hard.” he joked, lighting another match just to spite her. 

“Oh, be quiet, you dingbat!” She said, slightly leaning on his arm as she sat on the ground. “Dingbat, huh? Not sure what that means but I’ll take it.” 

 

He got to his feet with a bit of resistance from his ribs. But of course, he extended his hand to help her up. She grasped his hands and pulled herself, she wobbled a little bit until she went his palm stable her lower back. “Are you alright?” Mikhail asked. 

 

“I’m dandy, only a little tired.” 

 

“Tired? Then why don’t you finish the rest of my rations and get some rest? I insist on it. I’ll walk you if that would make you feel better.” 

 

Scarlett rolled her eyes and flattered him by looping her arm around his and taking a stroll. 

 

“Are you cold? You aren’t even wearing a shirt, you _turkey_!” 

 

“You consider this cold? Please, _never_ come to Moscow in winter.” he mocked, trying really hard not to slip some Russian into his English speech- knowing she didn’t really like it much! 

 

“Now, go eat and get warm, I take it you Americans didn’t come prepared for the cold summer nights, so you can find my coat laying around somewhere.” 

 

Thanks to Sveta, they’d gotten all their uniforms back. Mikhail couldn’t wait to jump back into it, leading his men on the field again. 

 

Sveta was peeping around, trying to catch Mikhail when he had a moment to spare. “Fine, see you around, cowboy.” 

 

Mikhail smiled and shot her a wink, watching her walk back into the tent. Mikhail went to have a smoke break, leaning against a thick tree trunk. 

 

“Privet, lieutenant” she chimed from behind the tree. 

 

“Kak ti?” He asked, waiting to light his match. 

 

“I’m fine, but I have something very important to tell you.” 

 

Mikhail turned his head around to see her, looking rather displeased with her.

 

“At least _look_ at me if you’re going to _speak_ to me.” he almost hissed, exhaling the smoke through his nostrils. 

 

“Still not friendly with me, are you?” she asked, slowly walking in front of him. 

 

In return, she looked at him like he was meat and she was a hungry lion, only waiting for him to say something to provoke her. 

 

“Why are you here, _ German?  _ Are you going to tell your Captain where we are? Why did you help us if you tell me nothing after?” 

 

How badly he wanted to lash out at her for all her secrecy. 

 

“Haha… Mikhail, _oh Mikhail_. You are _pretty_ but are you that _smart?_ Surely you can be both.” 

 

**“What the hell are you implying?!”** he almost shouted, eyes going in his general direction. 

 

“Lower your damned voice, are you sure you want to speak to a _comrade_ like that?” 

 

She reached into her chest pocket and pulled out of military ID with everything from her codename to set occupation on it. 

 

He gasped, feeling like a fool for not putting it together. 

 

She smiled and shrugged, watching to laugh at the hidden shock on his face. “Well…” he started, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

He was at a loss for words and now felt bad for giving her such a hard time in the Stalag. 

 

“Svetlana, a beautiful name. It is a shame I am just now learning it.” 

 

“I was sent to help you, and I have not completed the mission but I did the main goal: getting you two out of there. Next? We take down the Stalag, I have maps which their next raids will be and when.” She pulled the maps from her blazer and handed them to Mikhail. 

 

“When you are healed up, you need to lead a brigade into the Stalag as quickly as possible. We have no time to waste. I understand you are still healing, but the sooner the better.” 

 

“Understood. As for the Americans?” 

 

“ **Harmless** and they are willing to help if we are going against the Germans, that’s why they are here. And Scarlett? I trust her so you have _nothing_ to worry about.” 

 

Mikhail seemed to be relieved this. “I suppose I should apologize to you then,” he started, lowering his head before her. 

 

“I’m sorry, Sveta. Truly. It was a time of high stress and I was only-”

 

“Mikhail. You treated me like an _enemy_ and that’s what I _wanted_. You did what any man would have done.” 

 

She placed her hand on his bicep and gave him a tender smile. “You don’t owe me anything, lieutenant. Only some zapekanka will do the trick.” Svetlana joked, reaching into her pocket to throw a peppermint at him. They really were his favorite candy to be had. She tossed it to him and he happily ate it on the spot. 

 

“See you around, Mickey.” 

 

He playfully scoffed at his new nickname.

 

Several hours had passed and the entire camp was cooking up the deer, though Scarlett was nowhere to be seen. Mikhail assumed she fell asleep in his tent, so he figured he checked up on the American girl. 

 

“Scarlett?” he peeked into the tent to see her sitting on the bed, her face buried in her hands. 

“Are you alright, Roza? Do you want me to bring you something to eat?” 

“I’m not hungry.” she choked out, not doing a very good job at hiding the fact she was crying.

 

Scarlett was actually sobbing only moments before, though she didn’t expect him to come back in the middle of her grieving process. “May I come in? What’s wrong?” 

He couldn’t bare her sobs anymore without helping her in some way. 

 

She gripped a letter in her hand and handed it to him, wiping her tears away. “Just read it,” she choked, trying to get her breathing under control. 

 

His eyes skimmed over the letter. 

 

“Roza… I am deeply sorry for your loss.” 

 

He knew the pain she felt losing her father in the war, he understood all too well. 

 

“I’m sure he was a good man,” he started, not knowing what all to say to her. 

 

Tears were running through her fingers and onto her hands, dripping on her pants. She took a deep inhale, wiping her eyes with shaky hands. “I want to know why, why did this have to happen?” 

 

“My papochka died as well, due to battle injuries after he was sent back home,” he went on clenching his fist tightly. “And my mother? Sickness. I know your pain, Roza.” 

 

She looked up at him with, large, teary eyes. He clenched the necklace around his neck, he’d worn it ever since it was given to him. “...And this was hers. She gave it to me.” he said, opening up the locket to show the woman beside him a picture of his mother. “She was beautiful,” Scarlett complimented, seeing the obvious pain in his face. 

 

“Scarlett,” he paused, closing the locket. “I am sure your father was a hero, a great man of steel. And you are just the same, in his image. I have no doubt that the both of you, are strong, capable soldiers.” 

 

Scarlett was surprised by his words, how he opened up to her, telling her everything she may relate to. 

 

“Mickey… I...  you left me speechless. Your losses are great and you have my sympathies.” 

 

Mikhail shook his head. 

 

“It’s a heavy burden- war. So heavy we can only carry it for so long until it breaks our backs. Guns? A heavy burden but there are people who are forced to carry it…” his voice seemed to crack after he chuckled, biting his lower lip to distract from any emotional pain he was feeling. Scarlett just enjoyed listening to his take on the subject, finding herself agreeing with it all. 

 

“And you? I can tell you can handle it, I see it in your face, you seem to handle far too much. I mean, you’re a nurse, you will save more lives than I can dream of. You are a true woman of steel,” he paused, raising his head to look at her. 

 

“And I am greatly honored to know you, honored to have you nurse my broken bones, and honored to see you save the lives of my comrades.” 

 

Suddenly, Scarlett embraced him, being extremely mindful of his ribs. His strong, bear-like hands gripped her shoulder and she felt her cold and wet cheeks rest on his bare shoulder. “It will be alright, Roza,” Mikhail whispered, gently rubbing her shoulders and back. 

 

_ “I’ve got you.”   _

 

They embraced warmly, she basked in his warmth and felt his warm presence around her. 

 

“It’s late, you may want to sleep,” Mikhail whispered into her hair, which was velvety soft against his cheek. “I’m exhausted,” she said while pulling away. “Sleep, you need it, you’ve had a long day.” He slipped his army jacket on, having a bit of a hard time flexing his arms into the sleeves. 

 

“Do you sleep with the other nurses or…? I know little about your traditions.” 

 

“It doesn’t matter, really, wherever there’s room.” She replied, patting down on her under eyes to reduce redness. “Sleep here then, I’ve got other placed to sleep.” 

 

“Mickey! No! I can’t ask that from you!” 

 

“You didn’t ask. It’s cold outside, I’m not having you walk to your tent when you’re already in one.” 

 

Mikhail waved goodbye and let her sleep peacefully. “Sleep well, Roza.” 

 

Mikhail went to find Misha, assuming she’d be sleeping by now - though he didn’t mind to sleep on the ground in her tent. 

 

Though when he went into her tent - she wasn’t sleeping yet she was reading. 

 

“Misha?” He whispered, stepping into the tent. 

 

“Mikhail! Come here, sit with me.” He walked over to her and sat on the edge of her bed, putting his hand on her knee. “What are you reading?” He asked, leaning over to see it. 

 

“I don’t have my glasses but…” Mikhail paused, giving her a shrug. “Oh! Sveta told me to give _these_ to you…” she reached into her bag and pulled out a pair of thick reading glasses. “Here.” 

 

She pulled his reading glasses from her back and put them on his face, his bright blue eyes adjusting to the new view. “Now, what are you reading?” he asked again, leaning over to see the pages. 

 

“ _Gone With The Wind!_ Roza gave it to me and I really enjoy it,” Misha started, putting a bookmark on her page number. 

 

“Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Do me a favor tomorrow, okay?” 

“Go on…” 

 

Mikhail rubbed his chest, needing to catch his breath more often than usual with his injuries. 

 

“You’re good with flowers, you know what’s pretty and what is not. I cannot walk great distances or I would do it. But can you please pick some for her? She is heartbroken over the loss of her papa.” 

 

Misha nodded. “I can do that, there’s a field not too far from here where Nikolay likes to draw, and there are flowers there.” 

 

“Spasibo, Misha. Really.” 

 

Misha put her book down and took the blanket off her and put her hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?” 

 

“Fine. I just feel awful for Roza and she’s done so much for us all.” 

 

Misha shut her eyes for only a second, feeling Mikhail looking at her the whole time. “You’re too sweet for this world, Mikhail. I’ll get the prettiest flowers  I can find in the morning.” 

 

Mikhail gave her a warm bear-hug, resting his chin on her shoulder. 

 

“I love you, Mikhail. So much. Now I can tell you that without thinking it’s the last time I’ll get to say it.” 

 

Deeply touched by her words, he smiled and she could feel his stubble brush on her skin. 

 

“I don’t want you to ever feel like it’s the last time you’ll say it to me. Ever,” he trailed off, holding her even tighter. He rubbed her back gently, being very mindful of her potential bruised skin. “I’m going to protect you no matter what, even if it kills me. I would die for you.” 

 

She shook her head. 

 

_ “I want you to live for me.” _

 

He smiled, feeling pain form in his chest again, it was so frustrating for him to have these broken bones. He hated it and he knew he’d made them worse if he continued as Mikhail. 

 

How he wanted to be hugged tighter, how he wanted to race Misha on foot like the times before. 

 

He didn’t like being babied or nursed, he wanted to do it himself. 

 

But what was he really proving to anyone? He was making it harder on himself than it needed to be. 

But he blamed himself for his own injury, not being quick enough, not being smart enough, not running away long enough. It was all he thought about the last three days, how he could have been better. Mikhail had a heart of steel, forged by suffering and red-hot metal, he hated being so damn vulnerable to his pain. 

 

If he showed signs of pain, he was weak in his own mind. Being the last son of the Volkov bloodline, he had to prove something to himself. 

 

“Go to sleep, Mikhail. You’re tired.” She pulled away from him and ruffled his hair just to mess with him, watching the smile form on his face. “Goodnight, Misha. Sleep well and… thank you again.” 

 

“Don’t mention it. Do you have a place to sleep?” 

 

  
“The ground will serve just fine.” 

 

“Hell no. Switch me places.” Misha kicked the covers off her and pushed him into the pillows, gently of course. “Give me your jacket.” 

 

Misha liked sleeping on the floor, even in their own house, Mikhail would knock on her door and see her sleeping on the floor with a pillow and her stuffed bear. She removed his jacket and balled it up at a pillow, making herself comfortable. “Are you sure you’re comfortable down there?” he asked, reaching down to caress her forehead. “Just…peachy?” she questioned if he used the term right. “Peachy, huh? Good. Now, go to sleep, Misha.” 

 

“Goodnight, Mikhail.” 

 

Misha had woken up in the middle of the night with a heavy pounding heart, the loud she could hear it in her ears. She got to her feet and needed to breathe in her surroundings, everything was a blur. 

 

She slowly crept outside in the darkness, armed with nothing from her attire, she really felt like a civilian again. 

 

And she  _ hated _ it.  She felt like she could be killed at any given moment; she wasn’t afraid of death but she was in no hurry to die. She went for a light stroll, enjoying the cool grass on the bottoms of her feet. She saw a faint silhouette by a tall oak. “Nikolay?” she whispered, taking large steps to see the figure. “Misha,” he chimed, holding his hand out to her so she didn’t lose her way. When she grasped his hand, she stumbled and almost fell into his arms. “Are you alright, Misha? Can you not sleep?” he asked, gently putting his hand on her shoulder. 

 

“I was sleeping, but… well, you know I don’t have to explain it.” She turned her head in shame, remembering every moment of her nightmare. “It’s alright, Misha. You’re alright.” he comforted her, cupping her cheek in his hand. They’d grown so close over the year of knowing each other, Nikolay was falling in love with her every day for that time. But he only wondered if Misha felt the same way about him.

 

“It was terrible,” she started, covering half her face with her palm. “Everything at the camp replayed in my head again and I couldn’t wake up.” 

 

When they first met, she told him “I don’t do bonds outside the military.”

She didn’t stay true to that no matter how hard she tried. “You’re awake now and you’re safe.” she took a heavy inhale, slowly turning towards him. Her thoughts were racing and she was trying to make sense of it all. “Nikolay,” she started, taking his hand into hers. “Do you remember when you first saved me? When I crawled to your cabin, so sure I was going to die right there?” 

 

“Da… I remember.” 

“You saved my life. You’re the reason I’m here standing with you. You are the reason the Volkov family is still here. You are the very reason I’m not rotting away.” She didn’t know why she was spilling everything right now, she couldn’t hold back any longer. She regretted it already but she couldn’t stop the words now. 

 

“And you have stood by me, all through everything…” 

 

Misha found herself running out of words, the sound of her heartbeat was thumping in her ears at this point, but it wasn’t from fear like before. 

 

“Misha, all I wanted to do was bring good in the world…” 

 

“And you are the good.” 

 

His words hit her hard, she was a hero in his eyes. 

 

She took a step closer to him, running her fingers along his arms, feeling his veins under her fingertips. Misha took a chance by saying this, but she really was getting tired of holding back her feelings when they were safe. 

 

Nikolay’s cheeks warmed up to a bright red, it was very prominent on his pale skin. “I said I don’t do bonds outside the military…” she started, standing on her toes to reach his lips. His heart was racing so damn fast he could feel it in his ears. 

 

“...But I can make an exception for you.” and with those words, she kissed him. 

 

She kissed him gently, running her fingers over his hands, feeling his hands intertwine with hers. Nikolay’s hair fell out of place and it tickled her cheeks, making her chuckle against his lips. They never wanted to pull away because the world around them was only a blur. 

 

Nikolay gently pulled away, feeling her lips wanting to stick to his but she lowered herself to stand flatly. “I think I may love you,” the man whispered, putting his arm around her lower back, pulling her closer to him. It was rather bold on his part. “You think? It’s no question on my end.” she smiled, putting her hand on his chest. 

 

He didn’t have the words to reply because he did love her, it was no question. He kissed her again, this time cupping both her cheeks in his hands. She kissed him deeply, having to stand on her toes to reach his lips. She supported herself on his shoulders her cold fingertips barely brushing over his collarbones. 

 

Nikolay forgot everything so quickly, only focusing on her kiss. 

 

She pulled away and gazed into his eyes, caressing her cheekbones with her thumbs. 

“I wanted nothing more than to do that,” Nikolay whispered pushing her hair behind her ear. 

 

Misha smiled. “I’m glad. Do you want to sit for a while longer? The stars are really beautiful tonight.” 

 

“I’d like nothing more…” 

 

_ “But you’re always beautiful…”  _


	11. A Helping Hand

 

Scarlett was the first to wake up in the early morning, finding herself in Mikhail’s tent, only to see him sitting in the corner, reading one of his books. “Morning,” he said lifting his eyes from the pages to see her sleepy face. “You look tired still. It is 7 AM, wouldn’t hurt to go back to sleep.” He shrugged, marking his spot. She rubbed her eyes and realized she was still in her day clothes. “I haven’t given you your painkillers, have I?” 

 

“Net.” 

 

“I’ll take that as a no. Alright. One minute.” She kicked her blankets off and just noticed he was wearing reading glasses. “Huh? You look cute in those.”

 

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting  _ cute.  _ But I  _ do  _ need to be able to see what I’m reading.” 

 

Scarlett couldn’t argue with that. She reached into her pocket and handed him the medicine. “Unfortunately, this is your last set until we get more aid. And I need you to take off your shirt, I have to check on your breathing.” 

 

Mikhail took the pills and downed them with a bit of water. Just after that, he stripped from his long-sleeved shirt, revealing far too many scars and battle wounds. She put the stethoscope in her ears and warmed the metal piece against her palm. “Alright, take in a breath for me. As much as you can without hurting.” 

 

He gave her a nod and inhaled as much as he could, only to exhale a split second later. “Breathe normally, honey.” 

 

She moved the piece around his back, hearing the grinding of his bones still. “You sound better, you will heal up pretty quickly but I’m telling you, without these pills, you’re gonna be crying like baby Jesus.” 

 

Mikhail scoffed. “So you say, but working at the steel mill for a good portion of my life toughened me up.”

 

Before she could respond, she heard commotion on the outside. Scarlett kindly excused herself.

 

To her surprise, it was a German soldier,  only it seemed he came in peace. Misha was already on the spot, hiding in the bushes, eyes fixated on her target. “What do you want, German? You are on American soil and I highly recommend you step off.” 

 

Mikhail heard the mention of Germans and he couldn’t resist the urge to load his gun, slip on his shirt and see what the issue was. 

 

“Actually, you are not American soil. Yet German. I was sent to give you a notice to find land elsewhere.”

 

Scarlett didn’t take kindly to that whatever. Mikhail watched from his tent and decided to let her handle it. “Listen to me - I’ve got a sniper on my right side, behind  _ one  _ of those bushes and she is a really deadly shot and with only a signal, she will shoot you down like the dog you are.” Scarlett threatened, glancing over at the bush Misha was hidden behind, her finger ready to pull the trigger. 

 

“I only send a message, American.”  

 

Scarlett laughed. “Really now? You can kill the messenger but not the message, no?” 

 

“Right, killing me will solve nothing. Find land elsewhere or we will be forced to remove you and I don’t think you want that. We are showing mercy, I suggest you take it.” 

 

Scarlett didn’t take kindly to his threat, nor did she find it very amusing. 

 

“You do not frighten me,  _ Nazi _ . I only seek to aid the wounded and I’ve done enough killing of your kind in my own country.  **_Get out.”_ **

 

Misha was still waiting for her signal and she was really wanting to shoot him regardless, only she did have an order to follow. He raised his hand to speak again, only to have Scarlett pull out a single light. 

 

“I am going to give you ten seconds to turn your ass around and get the fuck off this soil before I signal my girl to shoot a bullet through you. Your time starts now.” With those words, the German gave a sieg heil and just like that she lit the lighter and watched his body fall to the ground with a loud bang. She saw it didn’t kill him, though he would bleed out soon enough. Scarlett walked over to him, watching him grip his chest. “Good shot, Volkova.” She called, “Thank you for not shooting him in the head, I don’t want to get his skull fragments in my boots.” 

 

“He’ll be dead in seconds,” she said, reaching to feel his pulse. “Or… now. Use his clothes for the fire.” 

 

She went back to Mikhail, now in a sour mood thanks to the boldness of the Germans these days. 

 

He looked at her, seeing the clear look of anger on her face. “Like I was saying, you will heal up fine but it will be very hard to breathe without these pills.” 

 

“That’s fine, Roza. Why don’t you rest, you look flustered.” 

She shot him a glare. “Don’t fret, Ruskie. I always look flustered, especially when there are cockroaches crawling about. You rest, who has broken ribs again?” 

 

“Me, but-” 

 

“Don’t argue with me, I have much to worry about and I’m in no mood to deal with your attitude. Please.” 

 

She realized she started to snap at him but the offended look on his face snapped her back to reality. 

“Listen, Ruskie. I like you, you’re nice along with your sister, but I have a sneaking suspicion you’ll bite the hand that feeds.” 

 

Mikhail was hugely offended by her comment, but he understood her suspicion.

 

He scowled, turning his head away from, holding back his fiery tongue. 

 

“Is that so, American? I’m so glad you don’t trust us the slightest bit! Who would trust the Soviets after all?” he retorted, growing more and more annoyed with her. “Besides, aren’t you Americans still doing business with Nazis? I should have suspected that much from you capitalists.” he snapped, resisting the urge to say something even crueler. 

 

“I have no control of such things. It is an American providing aid for your people. Show me some damned respect, soldier! Don’t make me regret opening my arms to you, Soviet!” 

 

Mikhail found himself losing his temper with her, not thinking about what he would have to say later to her. 

 

“Don’t forget where you are, American. You are a long way from home and I don’t need you to lecture me on biting the hand that feeds.  _ Ever.”  _

 

She was seething with anger and all he was doing was filling her flames. “I am not from these lands but you and I have the same goal. Defeating  _ Nazis.  _ I didn’t come here to argue with an insufferable bastard about who betrayed who!” She yelled, people being able to hear their dispute from outside. Mikhail got to his feet, he wouldn’t stand being yelled at by a woman on foot. Scarlett was conflicted, if he made the grave mistake of stepping to her, she would be forced to push him back in defense. He was in no position to be manhandled with broken bones. 

 

“You were the same person who accused me of biting the hand that feeds, and now you have the nerve to argue with me? Don’t be stupid. I see the stresses of war are going to your head. You have no place here.” 

 

Scarlett’s eyes turned to slits at his words. 

 

In a fit of rage, she backhanded him, making the loudest clap she ever heard. “You know nothing of what I can handle, you stupid man! Get out of my sight, you damned commie!” 

 

She stormed out with a heavy groan, not even noticing her necklace breaking and falling to the ground beside her. She was seeing red, nothing but pure red. He enraged her so much she saw no other option but to slap him. Mikhail could hear her huff outside the tent. He knew better than to bother an upset woman, so he let her cool down on her own. But he couldn’t let her necklace get stepped on and get tarnished. He went to pick it up, straightening out the gold chain. Now wouldn’t be a good time to give it to her, he slipped it into his pocket and kept to his own devices. 

 

Scarlett ripped through the camp, ignoring any and all concerns for her, that is until Svetlana saw her and chuckled at her. Scarlett leaned against a tree and Sveta followed her. 

 

“Everyone heard,” chimed. 

“Don’t speak to me.” 

“You no longer trust me? I know Mikhail can be obnoxious, but you can’t always blame the man. Do you know what he went through only a year ago? You’re the first American he’s come in contact with. I am not ignoring what he said but you are not off the hook either.” 

 

Scarlett huffed, feeling tears form in the corners of her eyes. 

 

No, she wouldn’t cry now. “I don’t know who to trust anymore, Petra.” 

 

“Sveta.” she corrected. 

 

“Fine, fine, whatever. You still lied to me and expect me to trust your people.” 

 

“I lied to you not because I didn’t trust you because I had a mission to do. You understand that, don’t you?” 

 

“What did he do to make you feel this way?” Sveta asked, walking around the tree to stand beside her. 

 

“I started to get… personal with him, in a friendly manner but now? It feels lost. We aren’t meant to be friendly when we are enemies.” 

 

“Are you really his enemy when you nursed him to health? Is he your enemy when he gave you his meal and comforted you when you got the tragic news of your father?” 

 

Sveta was raising the questions now, making the other woman think. 

 

“Are you hating him because of what your government tells you about us; or do you hate him for the time being because you found yourself in a quarrel?” Sveta did have a way with words in this regard, she knew Scarlett wasn’t filled with hate. 

 

“I’ve seen much worse arguments between him and Misha. And don’t think I’ll only give you this lecture, he will get it too.” 

 

Scarlett sighed, agreeing with Sveta. “Maybe I should not have slapped him.” 

 

“He can take it, back in the Stalag he endured much worse. Things he won’t tell you. But it’s important for you to know, to understand him…” Sveta started, inhaling the warm summer air. 

 

“Did you know he took canes for Misha? Where do you think those scars on his back came from? He took gunshots to the leg for sick testing, he watched his own sister be tortured while he could not defend her.” 

 

Scarlett didn’t know this, and she replayed slapping him in her head, the brief look of confusion in his eyes sticking with her. 

 

“Unspeakable things happened to him. He won’t tell you but it still bothers him, it haunts him like a looming shadow. It shows in everything he does.” 

 

Scarlett wiped her eyes and patted under her eyelids. “I didn’t know… I…” 

 

“It’s a wartime, fights will happen, my dear. He will forgive you, don’t worry. Give him time and he will do the same for you.” 

 

Scarlett nodded, reaching to grip her necklace. “My necklace-!’ she started, panic setting in her face. Sveta looked on the ground for it, not seeing a single trace of it. “I’ll look for it, Roza. You just need to rest for awhile. We are at peace, you can rest easy. Come to me if you need me.” Sveta waved goodbye and went off for a stroll, finding the Polish forests easy on the eyes. 

 

Meanwhile, Mikhail only sharpened his blade by himself. He started to miss the heat of war, missing cutting the scalps of Nazis or carving swastikas in their foreheads only to send them back to intimidate the others. He admired the blade, seeing his own reflection in the silver, he started at his reflected eyes, questioning who he saw. He realized how much he started to miss his mother, bringing a hand to the locket and holding it tightly. He opened it and saw the beautiful face of his mother, looking just like Misha with her pretty eyes and striking smile. Mikhail closed it and dropped his knife on the ground, the thoughts of her tearing him apart on the inside. 

 

It ate him alive like a poison, rotting his mind and bones, leaving him with only damaged flesh from war. 

 

That’s all he was. 

 

Damaged flesh. His arrogance faded as he grew older and realized time was passing by and the years piling on. As childish as he was, he felt so much pain. He wanted to be an inspiration for people, he wanted to end the war single-handedly, not wanting anyone to die because of him. Everything was tearing him down. It was piling on and he kept trying to hold on, even if it was to a spider’s thread. 

 

He wanted to do one thing in his life: defend. Even if it meant killing himself in the process. 

 

Every time he failed, it ate him alive little by little. And now he was letting his dark thoughts consume him. He couldn’t block them out. He wanted to go home. 

 

He had been away for so long, he missed it all. 

 

He missed running into his mother’s arms, holding her tightly. She would tell him she adored her little wolf of a son, making him whatever he wanted to eat. 

 

He missed embracing his father, getting a firm pat on the back. He would share his stories with him. 

 

Most of all, he missed the sweet look Misha gave him, rushing down the stairs to greet him, leaping into his arms and holding him tightly. He would twirl her around and spend the entire day with her, buying everyone lunch or making it himself. They would play tug-of-war with their pup, Mikhail always winning even if it took him a few tries. 

 

He didn’t regret becoming a soldier, not at all. He knew the risks, but it didn’t make it any easier to handle years down the line. 

 

The soldier sniffled, shaking his head to forget it all. He went back to sharpening the blade, grinding it across the stone. “Lieutenant.” Sveta knocked on the post outside the tent. 

 

“What?” he asked, lifting his eyes to see a pair of eyes peeking at him through the separated cloths.

“You can come in if that’s what you’re asking,” he added with a shrug. 

 

Sveta walked in keeping her eyes locked on him like he was in trouble. 

 

“Why are you looking at me like that? What did I do?” 

“You did a lot, apparently. Enough to make Scarlett backhand you.” 

 

That caught him off guard. 

 

“Tell me again how that is your business?” he asked, shooting her a glare. 

 

“I could hear it. I know you don’t like our American friends but you will like them if I say you will. Do you understand? Don’t forget all the work I did to get us here and I will not allow you to ruin it. They help us. Show respect.” 

 

“You trust them too much,” Mikhail groaned. 

 

“I know what I am doing, trust me. Won’t you trust your spymaster? If you want to get technical: you have no order over me, always remember I respect your word…-’ 

 

“ **_But I will always follow my own.”_ **

 

“You test my patience, Svetlana, is it because you know I would never lash out at you?” 

 

Sveta’s lips curled into a smile as she walked over to him. She crouched before him, gazing into his lovely blue eyes. “Do I know that?” she put her hand on his shoulder. 

 

“You do, don’t play stupid with me! Svetlana, you know for a damned fact I would never turn my teeth against you, if you think I would, can you call me lieutenant?” 

 

She smiled again. It was driving him over the edge, an itch he could not scratch. “I know you well, Mikhail. I see these raging flames in your eyes, all I’m doing is proving a point.” 

 

“What is it?! Damn you, woman, stop toying with me!” 

 

“You think with your rage, not your technicality. You think I trust too much? You don’t trust enough.” 

 

She trailed off, bringing her hand to his cheek, wiping the bit of dirt under his eye. “Don’t you understand? My goal is to keep you safe, that’s been my one and only goal this entire time. Why don’t you let someone else hold your life in their hands when it’s always you holding theirs?” 

 

Her words hit him like a brick, he could not even bear to look at her eyes. She made him feel vulnerable, she stole the emotions right out of his body and he despised that more than anything. “I’m done talking.” 

 

“As you wish, lieutenant.” 

 

She left him on his own to sulk without her prying eyes. 

 

He pulled the necklace from his pocket and thought of Scarlett and how she probably felt losing the only thing that reminded her of home. It was tangled, the gold chain seemingly stuck in tiny knots even the kindest of grandmothers could not get it. He began to work at the knots, using the very end of his knife to pry the stubborn knots out of place. 

 

He worked on it for hours - the knots knowing no end. And he didn’t want to damage the precious thing either. Finally, it was back to normal and he felt rather proud of himself. Though he didn’t know he t give it to her after their argument. He didn’t know Angela too well and he wondered if she would even understand his accent, but it was worth a shot. Finding her would be the real test as she was all over the place, looking at things, talking to Misha and sharing stories, they were growing closer and closer. 

 

He went out to look for her, avoiding the eyes of Scarlett. 

 

He found Angela relaxing on the ground under a grand tree, arm over her knee, just relaxing. 

 

“Excuse me, are you Angela?” he asked, peeking his head around the tree. “Call me Angel. What do you need?” she chimed. 

 

“You know Roza, correct?” 

 

“I know a Miss Rose… but no Roza.” 

 

“Yes, yes, that is who I mean. Scarlett.” 

 

“I know her, yes.” 

 

“Then can you give this to her? Don’t tell her it was from me, we had a… quarrel.” He handed her the necklace. “Why not? She would thank you! Listen, don’t get the wrong idea about her, she’s a good woman.” 

 

“I do not doubt it, Angel. Just… give it to her when you see her.” 

 

“Alright, I won’t argue with that, blondie.” 

 

“Spasibo, spasibo! I owe you my life, lapochka.” Angela was surprised by his thankfulness! “Sit down, blondie, I wanna talk with you.” 

 

He sat next to her without question. “Ask what you wish, my friend.” 

 

“Friends now? Ain’t often I’m called that.” 

 

“Is this so? But why is that?” 

 

“People call me  _ Pinko.”  _

 

“Pinko? What does this mean?” he mused, turning his head to look at her. “Hah! It’s a bit nicer than  _ commie _ or  _ filthy traitor…  _ It just means a supporter of communism without being in any parties.” 

 

“Huh? Well, I think I like that name for you, comrade. How’d you get it?” 

 

**_“I’m a communist.”_ **

 

“Surprising,” he replied with an eyebrow perk. 

 

“But keep that hush-hush. You know what happens to American commies?” 

 

He paused, shaking his head. “No…?” 

 

“You may as well consider yourself dead.” 

 

“You’re a resilient woman, no doubt.” 

 

Angela smiled, her eyes locked on the sunset in front of them. 

 

“Maybe so, Ruskie. Sometimes you just gotta make the hard choice on who you want to support down the line. And I didn’t choose my own nation.”

 

The two had sat together for a while longer, sharing tales about each other’s lives. 

 

“Would you like to see a photo of Moscow?” He asked, reaching into his pocket for the iconic photo of him and Misha standing together. Well, rather Mikhail holding her on his shoulders. “Please!” 

 

He handed her the photo and her face lit up. “Golly, that’s so sweet! Both of you look so happy!” Angela exclaimed, admiring the genuine smile on their faces. “Have you got another one?” Angel asked with a vibrant smile.

 

He searched his pocket for another one, he carried them wherever he went 

 

Mikhail handed her a photo of them together, in uniforms holding their country’s flag on each side. 

 

“I remember when this was taken-” he started with a heavy sigh. 

 

“We’d taken several auls in Chechnya, it was a hard fight, damned rebels don’t fight clean. Misha had risked her life getting to the top of their base to give the rest of us cover, rebels were pouring in from the woodlands,” he continued, remembering the events clear as day. “I was on the ground, I remember watching them fall one by one, Misha had taken most of them out by herself when she had the high ground to hide. She really is a savvy little fox, she’d set up traps behind her to make sure no one tried to take a hit from behind her.” 

 

Mikhail laughed gently, looking deeper into the photo. “And when it was all over, Misha came out injury free. Hah, damn, it’s like she didn’t need the rest of us there, she stormed through. We rose the flag together, standing on the top of the watchtower, all our men looking up at us.” 

 

“She gave the loudest victory cry I had ever heard… she grabbed my hand and we raised our fists in the air and gave one final cry. Our men joined us on the bottom and it was like the sound of crashing thunder.”

 

Angel was so pleased to hear his story, he really was a good man in her eyes. “Wow. I ain’t never done anything like  _ that  _ before, and I am honored to know the folks who did,” she said with a gentle exhale. “You know, before I joined up, I was alone. All my family dies in war and I’m the only one left, I wanted to make a name for my family. When I met Scarlett, she was a shining light in my midnight path.” 

 

Mikhail raised his brow at her comment. “Is that so? I am sure you are making quite the name for yourself. You’re what? Eighteen years old and already so bright and strong, if it means anything, I won’t be forgetting your name anytime soon.” 

 

When she heard those words, she felt her heart skip a beat, she was so shocked and… overjoyed. “Listen, Angel. No matter where you’re from, even if you’re a blasted American like yourself, if you support my cause, the entire Union’s cause, I won’t be forgetting you. I  _ will never  _ forget the names and faces of those who support us. Hell, you just told me if you were a communist in America, you are considered dead... “ 

 

“...and that, my dear Angel,” he paused, looking down at one of the pins on his jacket. 

 

He unclipped it and looked at it one last time, it was old but still shiny just like the day he got it. He grasped her hand and placed the hammer and sickle pin in her hand, closing her fingers gently. 

 

“... **Is bravery few have in this world.”**

 

Angel looked at the pin, her eyes softening, she wanted to cry of happiness. “I can’t take this, I didn’t earn this.”

 

“You’re a comrade, aren’t you? We all have one and I want you to have mine. You’re a brave girl, you remind me a lot of Misha in some ways… why don’t we head back to camp, hm?” 

 

“I’ll give Scar her necklace. Can you walk back with me?” 

 

“I hope I never gave you the sign you’d go without me, Angel! Let’s go.” 

 

Scarlett was fast asleep in her tent, snuggling up to a very flat pillow and a thin blanket. Mikhail crept into her tent to check on her, seeing the flowers and necklace resting on her back. 

 

He didn’t bother waking her, he knew he had done enough damage to her for one day. He sighed, and carefully put his jacket over her. “Sleep well, Roza…” he whispered into the darkness. 

 

He left her side with a sigh, feeling like such a fool. 

 

While Misha was sleeping in Nikolay’s arms, she stirred in her sleep, still holding on to the back of his shirt. 

 

She was so protective of him, if anyone dared crossed him, she would be there to make them run away with their tails between their legs. 

 

“Are you awake, Nikolay?” she mused, not bothering to lift her head. 

“Daaaa, why?” 

 

“I can’t sleep, every time I close my eyes all I see is the damned Stalag,” she began, looking up at him. 

 

“You’re away from there now, Misha. You have nothing to fear.” 

 

“It’s not fear.” She had to defend herself even if he was right. 

 

It WAS fear. 

That’s all it ever was. 

 

“I won’t argue with you, Misha. I want you to trust me to protect you.” 

 

Misha shook her head. 

 

“It is not your job to protect me. I will protect you, at the end of the day, you’re a citizen and I have sworn to protect any and all of you…” 

 

Nikolay shook his head. “I don’t hold that against you at all, my dear. You have a duty to follow and I know you will follow it to the end…” 

 

“...This I know, Misha. Now, go to sleep.” 

 

“Fine… Goodnight, Nikolay.” 

 

“Goodnight… my love.” 

 

The night was steady, slow, and peaceful. They didn’t have to fear having bombs dropped on them, or being invaded by German soldiers. Misha was fast asleep in her savior’s arms, thinking back to the horrible pain she felt when he ripped a bullet from her flesh. It raced back to her, she gripped his shirt in her sleep, so hard it made him wonder if she was really sleeping. 

 

Mikhail didn’t sleep on that night, he lied awake, tossing and turning in his bed, the horrible pain of his broken bones killing him with every passing second. He cursed under his breath, taking slow, shallow breaths. 

 

He really did want it all to end. 

 

As much as the Volkovs loved being soldiers, they hated it just as much as they loved it. The pain, the suffering, the torture. 

 

But the burden was worth it all, to them, anyway. 

 

It gave them all great joy. 

 

Anton, Vladimir, and Mikhail were all brothers. Loving brothers, Mikhail took them under his wing and protected them with all his being. They were best of friends, training, eating, drinking, all together. Hell, they were tortured together.

 

Mikhail hated to see them suffer, he begged for their release, trying to grab them when they were pulled away from him by Nazi dogs. Anton put up all the fight. Kicking and cursing, lashing, and scratching at those who put their hands on him. To be the youngest in the group, he was feisty.

 

Anton really did love Misha, he adored her as a little sister and watched over her like his own family. 

 

Vlad was no different, only he knew Misha did not need his watchful eye over her. 

 

_ “Get off me!”  _

_ “Lieutenant!”   _

 

_ It raced back to all of them.  _

_ Anton rested peacefully with Vladimir like they always did. They shared a tent, both sleeping on the cool ground.  _

 

_ Anton was young and rambunctious playful and got along well with Mikhail. Vlad was older, more experienced and seasoned, lingering on the quiet side.  _

 

_ “Vlad,” the younger man started. “I’m worried about Volkov, didn’t he break a few bones?”  _

_ “He did, but he would not want you to worry comrade,” Vlad replied.  _

 

_ “Da, you’re right. I got a letter from Nika, said she’ll be here soon to scout out the area.”  _

 

_ “He will be happy to hear that, damn… let’s get some rest, comrade.”  _

 

When morning came, Scarlett was pleased to see picked flowers and her necklace beside her. 

 

She slipped her necklace back on and gripped it tightly, wanting to cry she was so happy. Once she was dressed, she went to greet everyone. Misha, as usual, was cleaning her gun, of course in uniform. She felt at peace, donning her cap and lace-up boots. To her surprise, she heard rustling in the bushes, heavy footsteps, and leaves crunching under their boots. 

 

“If you are Germans, I suggest you show your faces.” 

 

“Misha, is that you?” a voice called, from the bushes. Familiar Russian accent…

 

“Show yourself,” she said, lowering her gun on her knees. 

 

A face merged from the bushes and Misha’s jaw actually dropped. 

 

**_“NIKA?!” Misha blurted out, running up to her comrades._ **

  
  


The girls embraced and went straight to work? “Privet, privet, Dominika, where the hell have you been?! It’s been almost two years without a trace of you, long time no see.” 

 

Nika laughed at her remarks. “I’ve been in the air, dropping bombs on Nazis where they can not strike me down. I heard what happened to you and your brother at the Stalag. You have my sympathies. If I were able to aid you, I would have. Though, the last few months have been hellish. The Germans have not let up at all,” she started, reaching into her coat for her map. “We have lost too many men, Misha. Too many. Prison camps are filled with our men. I’m happy to see you alive.” 

 

“Me too, Dominika. Why don’t you come see Mikhail, he hasn’t seen you in a long time.” 

 

“Not so fast, Misha-” 

  
  


Nika cut herself off and signaled her men to stand down. ‘Oi, men! It’s safe here, put your guns down. We have comrades here.” 

 

Seconds after her call, a group of five soldiers came behind her, tipping their hats to Misha. “Let me guess… brigade leader?” Misha chuckled, crossing her arms over her chest. 

  
  


“Of course. Now, where’s that Mikhail? I’ve got a piece of my mind he’s gonna hear.” 

 

Dominika Sergeyevna Yakovleva, Soviet pilot, brigade leader on the ground, and one hell of a good shot. At age 27, she climbed her way up her ranks, killing more and more fascists on each day. With 176 confirmed kills, she was a prideful woman, resistant and rather abrasive. She was fiercely protective of her team, ready to take a bullet and fire an entire round of bullets for them. “I can’t stay long, comrade, I have scout duty but it’s good to know you’re alive… and resting among Americans, no?” 

 

“Indeed, Nika! I have to admit their rations are a bit better than ours. Now, be warned, Mikhail has broken bones and hasn’t been in the best of moods.” 

 

“Mhm. Alright, just know if that damn man gives me attitude, he’ll pay for it.” 

 

The girls laughed together, patting each other on the back. 

 

Nika explored her new soil, the soft ground feeling nice under her boots. She stood outside the tent, taking a deep breath. She was mildly nervous to see him again, it was true. 

 

Nika clenched her fists.  _ ‘Go in, Nika. Just go.’ _

 

She peaked her head into the tent and saw Mikhail sitting down, gliding a knife along the sharpening stone, lost in his own thoughts.

 

“Mikhail,” she said. 

 

He looked up at her, knowing who she was the second he laid eyes on her. “Dom...Dominika?” Mikhail dropped his knife and got to his feet, clenching his ribs in pain. “That’s the name. Did you forget it?” 

 

“No! How could I ever, my dear? It’s just… been so long. I can’t say I didn’t miss you.” 

“I missed you too. What happened to you, Misha said you broke something?” 

“Ribs… tree branch.” 

 

Nika sighed, leaning against the small table in the tent. “Now you see why we ended it, right? You’re a troublemaker to the point where it’s going to kill you.” 

 

Mikhail couldn’t argue with that… He sighed and felt like a damned fool. “I know, Nika. We both agreed when things started getting too hot on the field.” Mikhail walked closer to her and pursed his lips at the splotch of dirt on her cheek. “Ohh, my dear Dominika, you really have not changed.” Mikhail shook his head. “Yes, I have! I’m a brigade leader now when we go out on foot. I prefer to shoot Germans from the air, though.” 

 

He laughed at her comment. “What? Don’t look at me like that.” 

 

Mikhail lifted his brow at her. “Like what?” 

 

Again, he tilted his head to the side and gave her yet another adorable expression. He really was good at looking cute while getting on a lady’s nerves. 

 

“Like  _ that!  _ Don’t tease me!” 

 

“I would  _ never _ ever do that to  _ you _ ,  _ malysh!”  _

 

_ How he messed with her, like the good old days. “You’re pushing your luck, lieutenant.”  _

 

_ “Am I?”  _

 

Suddenly, she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, holding a handful of his hair as she hugged him. “I’ve missed you so much, even if you are a pain in the behind. Being away from you for almost two years is torture, even if you are not kissing me.” 

 

Mikhail put his hand on her lower back and gently rubbed up and down. “The feeling is mutual, Nika, trust me,” he gripped her tighter than he anticipated, the strong urge to pick her up off her feet for old time’s sake.  

 

“I hate to say it again, but I have to leave you once more. My team was sent out to scout ahead, our camp a few kilometers away. I’ll… see you again, da?” she said with a heartfelt sigh.

 

He let her go and looked down at her pretty brown irises. The spark was still there, they could feel it in their bones, but it could not be, the war would only rip them apart. 

 

“You will, that’s a promise I will always keep.” he replied. 

 

Mikhail grabbed her hand and placed a kiss on the back of her palm, his hair falling out of place, resting on her skin.

 

“I’ll hold you to that promise, Mikhail…” 

 

And just like that, she was gone, she traveled where he could not follow, and that’s what really killed him. 

 

It really was painful for all parties, only the Volkovs seemed to suffer the most. 


	12. It's Worth Fighting For

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so much angst! ;)   
> song used: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NyZlb_hTJ5A
> 
> Song sang by Scarlett: Oh my Darling Clementine (C)

A month had passed and finally, everyone was on their feet. 

 

Misha was so pleased to put on her uniform every day, patrolling the camp all day and night, awaiting orders from her brother. It’s like they were back in the Union. 

 

“Misha,” Mikhail called her over to him. He was back to his old self, donning his military cap and rifle. “Yes, lieutenant?” she replied attentively, walking over to him while resting her machine gun on her shoulder. “Dominika told me her team saw Germans coming from the north-east, I need you to go out and watch until evening, da?” 

 

“Understood, sir!” 

 

She gave him a salute and marched off to her new base. “Soldier,” he began. 

 

She stopped in her tracks and turned her head to see him looking at her with hopeful eyes. 

 

“ _ Send them their deepest graves.”  _

 

_ “For the Union.”  _

 

At the Stalag, things took a very dark turn. 

 

Screams. 

Pain.

Violation.

 

Little Masha was still alive, to her own surprise.

Everyone was dead, bones piled up in the interior cells, the scent of dead, rotting bodies dying down. Hope was lost and more and more people started to die, the torture became worse, Soviet men and women watched each other suffer at the hands of Nazi doctors. Nora, the Captain’s child became crueler now that her rival woman was gone. She pranced around in leather boots, intimidating the inmates, running her knife along the bars in the night just to frighten them. 

 

Nora was beautiful.

 

Pale skin, long, blonde hair, the prettiest blue eyes. 

 

She was such an arrogant woman, she had to have all the power to herself. 

 

“Father dearest,” she chimed into his office. 

 

“Ja, my sweetheart?” he replied, lifting his eyes from his office papers, tilting his glasses up to get a better look at her. 

 

“What do you suppose we do? Things do seem to be worsening here, the stench is simply vile!” 

 

“Oh, do not fret, my dear girl. Things will improve, this I promise. Why don’t you ask one of the guards to clean whatever is bothering you, hm?” 

 

Before she could reply, a man walked into the room.

 

“A letter for you, sir.” 

 

“Danke.” 

 

The guard handed him the letter. 

 

The back read in German:  _ “I’m coming for you.”  _

 

When he opened it, he was surprised to see a swastika patch, stained with blood and dirt. 

 

_ “Captain, my captain. It feels so good to write this letter to you. You might not remember me, but I remember you all too well. Remember the screams that rang through your halls in the night? Screaming children and the cries of mothers begging to feed their children?  _

 

_ We do.  _

_ You might not, but we have not forgotten your crimes against humanity.  _

 

_ How does it feel, Captain? Reading this letter with a bloodied patch of one of your men who tried to cross me?  _

 

_ I shot him and I would gladly do it to all the men you send our way. Send your whole brigade and I will hide in the trees like a bobcat and they won’t see me coming. Send them all, as many as you wish.  _

 

_ They won’t make it even half a kilometer to my land, you may feel confident with your work on Grady and Warsaw but rest assured, you aren’t going to conquer us that easily. You have made the snow red with Soviet blood and we will taint your precious soils with our blood where you can’t wash it out.  _

 

_ You, Klaus, will soon understand why you’ve made a lethal mistake coming into my homeland, where my people rest easy because of my sacrifices and the lives given up to forever defend them.  _

 

_ You don’t know war.  _

_ You don’t know true bloodshed.  _

 

_ But don’t worry, you will when I come for you.  _

 

_ I will make you run from my ocean of bullets, I will blackout the sky with my gunpowder and my men will storm into your prison and we will bring hellfire to your step.  _

 

_ You are going to pay for what you have done, I know few have stepped to you, I know you feel like a God with all your men under you.  _

 

_ But I will take them down one by one until I reach you.  _

 

_ And when I do reach you?  _

 

_ Well, if there were any Romanovs left, you could ask them how we treated tyrants.  _

 

_ Remember this, Captain, you have taken the life of my father with your fascist hoards, but do not think you will take mine. You will not take mine, not until I get my revenge.  _

 

_ It doesn’t matter how many men you send to take me, I will give them the same treatment.  _

 

_ Or, I will carve hammer and sickles into their faces if they denounce their Naziism, but I prefer my nazis in uniforms so they can’t run and hide like mice. I’ll send them back to your doorstep, much like the man who gave you this letter.  _

 

_ On his forehead, he will not forget what he did, and neither will you.  _

 

_ Only you will pay for your crimes in blood.  _

 

_ I’m coming for you, Klaus.  _

 

_ I’ll make the snow red.  _

 

_ Sighed,  _ _ Misha Vladimirovna Volkova _

 

_ PS:  _

 

**_ARISE FOR A DEATH AGAINST THE DARK FASCIST FORCE!_ **

 

He looked up at the guard and his eyes became slits. 

 

“Remove your cap.” He commanded. 

 

The man slowly did so, revealing the communist symbol between his eyes. 

 

“You’ve denounced your loyalty to the Fuhrer?” 

 

“Sir, no! I had to stay alive.” 

 

“Nein! You will give your life for this cause, you are not worthy to be in this army, you are useless to me if you give up too easily!” 

 

Klau was seething with rage, so much he shot the man in the head between the eyes in a split second. 

 

“Pig dogs, all of them,” Klaus began. 

 

“Father, we can’t afford to lose men if you-” 

 

“Silence, girl! Take his body out and show him to the others if they ever betray this nation of ours!” 

 

“Ja, captain!” 

 

She gave him a sieg heil and dragged him out of the office. They didn’t have the resources to fight back now, but he knew if he allowed the Soviets to reside where they were, it would only give him more trouble along the way.  

 

At their camp, Misha sat in the treetops in her uniform, looking rather pretty up there. 

 

“Misha,” Mikhail called from the bottom. 

 

“Mhm?” 

 

“You’ve been up there awhile now, are you alright?” 

 

“I’m fine, I don’t mind the view but I am homesick.” 

 

He sighed. 

 

“I know you are, myshka. I am too, trust me. Come down and join the rest of us,  pojalusta?” he asked tenderly. He leaned against the heavy tree and put his hand on her hanging calf. “It’s muddy,” she commented, looking at at the ground. 

  
  


“Haha, it is, da. I’m healed enough to carry you over it if you like. You never did like the mud on your boots…” 

 

“I’ll live, just help me down.” 

 

She handed him her rifle, accidentally shooting herself in the leg wouldn’t help her case.

 

“Come, Misha, I’ve got you. I’m not made of porcelain,” he joked as she carefully used his shoulder for support. “It’s hard to think that when you’re a bull in a china shop, in Roza’s words. But fine!” 

 

Mikhail positioned himself under her so he could catch her like a princess. 

 

When she dropped from the branch, he caught her in his arms, bridal style. 

 

“Well, now that I’m up here, mind taking me over the mud?” 

 

“I had every intention of doing that,” Mikhail replied, taking a heaping step over the soft, muddy ground. “You will always find a way to baby me, won’t you?” she said, throwing her arms around his neck, linking her fingers together. 

  
  


“You’re goddamn right.” 

 

Once they got back to camp, the American girls were sitting together, humming their war songs with the other Soviet men, Anton and Vlad. 

 

They’d taken a liking to each other and shared their rations together, Scarlett made sure both of them were well fed and taken care of. 

 

“Vlad, would you like to hear a song?” Scarlett asked, throwing a few sticks into their fire. 

 

“I would love that, Roza.” 

 

The Americans look at each other with cheekish smiles on their faces. 

  
  


Scarlett cleared her throat and felt like she was back in the church choir. 

  
  


_ “In a cavern, in a canyon _

 

_ Excavating for a mine _

 

_ Dwelt a miner, forty-niner _

 

_ And his daughter, Clementine…!”  _

 

She began to sing, steadily clapping her hand on her thigh, repeating the first verse. The Volkovs stopped in their tracks to hear her sing, enjoying the tune of her angelic voice. Her accent became more apparent in the old American folk song. 

  
  


_ “Oh my darling, oh my darling, _

 

_ Oh my darling, Clementine! _

 

_ Thou art lost and gone forever _

 

_ Dreadful sorry, Clementine…!” _

 

Soon Angela began to pat her thigh to join in, gesturing for the other Russians to join. So they did, clapping in unison as the blue-eyed American continued to sing. Genuine smiles were on their faces, they swayed to the tune of the song, 

 

_ “Hit her foot against a splinter, _

 

_ Fell into the foaming brine. _

  
  


_ Oh my darling, oh my darling, _

 

_ Oh my darling, Clementine! _

  
  


_ Thou art lost and gone forever _

_ Dreadful sorry, Clementine _

  
  


_ Ruby lips above the water, _

 

_ Blowing bubbles, soft and fine, _

 

_ But, alas, I was no swimmer, _

 

_ So I lost my Clementine!!” _

 

_ Scarlett bowed her head to complete the song.  _

 

_ Everyone clapped and she remembered the happy cheers of her church back home.  _

“What a nice song, Roza,” Vladimir said, “it is sad, it seems. Is this true, da?

 

“Indeed, my friend.” 

 

His English was rather charming to her, even if she had to have him repeat something so she may understand it. “I’m sure the songs of your Union are just are nice, Vlad!” Scarlett commented with a shrug.

 

“Look what the cat dragged in!” Angela called when she met eyes with the Volkovs. 

 

“There are no cats around,” Mikhail replied, confused by her statement. He still didn’t understand such silly things the Americans said, only it gave them a nice laugh!

 

Mikhail put Misha back on her feet and avoided eye contact with Scarlett, a month had passed but the air was still thick between them. “Are we singing now?” Mikhail asked, taking a seat beside Misha. 

 

“I’m sure you’re a great singer, Mickey.” Scarlett mused, giving him a smirk. 

 

His cheeks became flustered like two big cherries. 

 

“I only know choir songs in Russian…” he said sheepishly, glancing over at Misha, hoping she would save him from the torture of singing again. 

 

“Well, he  _ is  _ a good singer, only he does not like it much,” she laughed, putting her arm around his shoulder. 

 

Mikhail rolled his eyes and playfully nudged her in the arm. “Quiet, Misha. It is not that I do not like it, I want to save it for special occasions.” 

 

The entire group was all together, at that moment it was not Soviet against American or American against Soviet. 

 

For it was simply friends brought together in a bloody time of war, enjoying the moments they had together. 

 

While happiness was filling the camp in Poland, things were not so bright in other parts of the world. 

 

The Stalag was in shambles, everything was missing, people were dropping like flies, and Klaus was searching desperately for the lost maps, even though they were taken from him months ago. “The nerve of these Soviet pig-dogs!” The Nazi captain shouted, slamming his gloved fists on the table. “I will find them and I will make them regret their bloodlines!” 

 

His dark eyes glanced over at his beloved daughter. “What do you propose, father dear? Send the entire army after some silly maps?” 

 

“Those were not silly maps, you stupid girl! Those defined the safety of our people, they dictated where I would send my men and they have been gone for far too long, I must get them back and I know these pig-dogs will not give them up easily.” 

 

“Do you even know whom took them, father?” 

 

“I know it was those damned Soviets! Who else would take them? They were drawn out  _ specifically  _ for summer of the next year, and now they are gone. I get a puppy-threatening letter from a little sharpshooter,  _ yes, I am so very threatened.” _

 

His sarcasm ran deep, he was  _ dripping  _ with rage. 

 

“I do find it strange only a few days before they broke out, Petra had said she must leave and return to Berlin…” 

 

“Father, you worry too much. Things will be fine,” she said, leaning her boot on the wall. “Leave me be, daughter, see that the Mustard Gas Test is seen to. Danke.” 

 

“Ja, father!” 

 

She gave him a sieg heil and went on her way. 

 

Nora despised her father just as much as she loved him, only he hated her more than she would ever know. 

 

Klaus hated everyone but himself, anyone who took away the spotlight from him. 

 

He was a narcissist, his ego was the size of Europe and his god complex seeped from his skin. 

 

He was a god, he would have a cult following if he had the chance. 

  
  


As much as he loved Hitler, he would happily take his place and have him under his boot. 

 

Klaus was cruel, a hateful man only he was so skilled at hiding his sick nature, he did it so well he became captain in a short amount of time. 

 

His hatred for Soviets ran deep, deeper than any ocean. 

He partook in the spectating of torture and suffering, so much he had dreams about it. He relished in the torture of the Volkovs, spectating from afar, adding his own flair to their suffering. He was only a sick man, his blood was black his taint and hatred. 

 

He would respond to her letter, at some point, of course, only he wanted it to be special just for her. He knew what she loved when she was at his camp, fiercely protective of the children there, having thrown many punches in the jaws of the Nazi guardsmen to make them drop the children and take her instead.  Only her attempts were futile many times, forced to look at the suffering little ones behind the glass, inhaling toxic gases and horrific torture. She banged on the glass, wheezing like a dying animal, everything would blur together and all she tried to save…

 

Became everything she lost. 

 

Much like everything any soldier loved, it became lost. 

 

Soon come the warm evening, both Soviet and American songs were sung as a peace offering, in some ways. Only Misha was nowhere to be found in the camp, both Anton and Vlad went to search for her, only to find her far up in a treetop, rifle resting on her hip. 

 

“Misha!” they called from the bottom. 

“Anton! Vlad! What brings you, my friends?” 

 

“We were worried about you, Misha. Are you alright?” 

 

“I’m fine, I only have a bad feeling about tonight. I’ll join you momentarily, go keep the others company.” 

 

The boys smiled. “Understood, soldier.” They gave Misha a solute and left her be. 

 

She gazed into the fields, mountains, and rivers… it was all ignored by the war. It was untouched by German and Soviet fires, bullets, and rage. 

 

Unlike her. 

 

Everything that touched her was war, bloodshed, and violence. 

 

Her dreams were stained with sweat and fear, dilated eyes, and hate. 

 

Misha was only a child thrust into the war, it felt like a dream, she’d been so lucky with still having her life. 

 

She was hurting on the inside, aching and grasping for straws. 

 

Misha was grabbing at life while taking them at the same time. 

 

Sometimes she wished for a normal life, but then she thought to herself…. 

 

‘ _ Would I want to die on my knees or my feet?”  _

 

Her feet seemed a better option. 

 

She would rather die with a gun in her hand than a screaming and civilian. She was so proud to be a soldier, it almost made her arrogant. But arrogance did not run in her blood, she knew her place, under others and above. She was no tyrant and she would follow the word of man, country, and the ways of war. 

 

She would kneel before graves of fallen men, much like her brother. 

 

Scarlett would kneel before God and the cross, praying for a safe return. 

 

Dominika would kneel for her planes, dropping bombs forty thousand feet in the air. 

 

Anton and Vladimir would kneel before Mikhail, ready to defend him with their very lives. 

 

Svetlana would kneel for none but her country leader, walking a path of legend and blackness. 

Much like Scarlett, Angela would kneel before God, but also her flag of her country and the red flag of the union. 

 

It was the way of soldiers, materialistic men, and women devoted to one and one thing only. 

 

Country. 

 

But little did they all know, tragedy would strike them from above.  

 

The night was cold and Misha didn’t leave those treetops. 

 

The sound of buzzing planes was starting to close in on them, and she knew damned well what it was. 

 

So she did what she did best, the only thing she knew how to do.

 

Fight. 

 

Armed with only her rifle and the heart of a goddamn lion, she planned to fight so hard she’d drive herself into the ground. 

 

But now? She had to run to camp. 

 

“Everyone, everyone! Take cover, we’ve got German company above!” She commanded like a war general, kicking over metal pots to better wake her people. 

 

Everyone seemed to jump into place from their slumbers. 

 

Mikhail always slept in his full uniform, so he had no need to change. 

 

“Misha, are you ready for this?” He asked, quickly reloading his machine gun. “Da! They will drop men on the ground to strike us down, but no! We will not fall, not until the black wings of fascist scum fill the skies with smoke!” 

 

Mikhail liked what he heard. “Then come, my beloved sister. Make father proud.” 

 

With that, all of the Soviets assembled, they were few but in their hearts, resided a thousand armies. 

 

The loud buzzing became more apparent and they could see a brigade of German men marching towards them, singing their war songs in the distance. 

 

“They want to sing now?” Mikhail shouted as he stood in front of his comrades. 

 

“Then let us give them a song!” 

 

So they marched right into the field, singing their war songs as loud as they possibly could. Misha singing from the treetops to join them. 

 

_ Let us put a bullet in the brow of rotten fascist scum! Let us make a strong coffin for such a breed! Let noble wrath boil over like a wave! _

 

Mikhail was marching proudly in front of his men, already hearing the sounds of Misha’s bullet rip into the air, shooting down the pack of wild dogs coming towards them. 

 

When the soldiers were on the field, a sea of bullets began to rain. 

 

Each Soviet took cover, behind rocks and trees, shooting down every Nazi who dared tread on their land. 

 

Misha was really the one saving their skins from the treetops. 

 

She took her deadly aim, shooting through skulls and stomachs, blood staining the ground. 

 

Mikhail was more brutal than he’d ever been. His hand to hand combat skills were very deadly and one man made the grave mistake of getting him from behind, such a silly move to make. Mikhail felt hand foreign hands on him, he didn’t even have to turn his head to smoothly take down the man behind him. 

 

Really, all he had to do was reach to grab the man’s hand and flip his body over his, shooting the enemy with a Nazi gun. 

 

How ironic. 

 

Anton and Vladimir were ripping the land to shreds, sticking together at all costs. Killing Nazis left and right when one fell, the other picked them up. They all fought like beasts until the bombs started to drop. 

 

It was so unexpected. 

 

Everything seemed to pause when the first bomb hit the ground, the blast so strong to blew everyone back. Mikhail groaned, spitting out dirt and possibly blood when he regained himself. 

 

Misha saw the bombs drop with her own eyes and she saw the grass begin to burn. She cursed under her breath. 

 

No one had anti-aircraft supplies and they were totally helpless on the ground. She had no choice but to reunite with her team.  

 

When she dropped from the tree, a German seemed to be waiting at the bottom for her. 

 

She grabbed the back of his head and shoved him into the ground, holding a pistol to his head. 

 

“ _ Who sent you?”  _ she growled, ready to pull that trigger. 

 

“Hof…” 

 

**_“TELL ME, UNLESS YOU WANT A BULLET IN YOUR HEAD!”_ **

 

“The Captain!”

Misha knew all she needed and didn’t spare him, giving him a quick shot to the head.

 

The others seemed to take out the ground troops rather quickly, leaving the planes to be dealt with. 

 

All they wanted was Nika right about now. 

 

More and more bombs were falling, and all was really falling apart. 

 

Misha had to run as fast as he legs would carry her. She saw her friends hiding behind rocks. 

 

Mikhail grabbed her wrist and pulled her down to the ground, heaving and trying to force the words out of himself. “Where is everyone, we have to get out of here!” Misha said, checking herself for wounds. 

 

“Roza and Nikolay are in the woods to the east where I sent them. I have no fucking idea where Sveta is, but dear god Misha stay here and whatever happens, don’t you dare move.” 

 

“Where will you go?” 

 

“Nowhere.” The buzzing was driving them over the edge, it was so painful they had to cover their ears to focus on themselves. But it was all taken from them, they looked up at the sky and actually saw a bomb ready to hit the ground. 

 

And they ran. 

 

The four Russians were running so fast, looking behind them to see the blast happen. 

 

Everything went black. 

 

It was just like when Misha woke up on the battlefield only last year. 

 

They have scattered apart with the sheer force and the German pilots assumed they had died. 

  
  


Mikhail lifted his head and saw the body of Misha several meters away, not moving. 

 

His worst nightmare seemed to be coming true. He struggled to get to his feet, looking around for his other friends, nowhere to be seen. “Misha” he whispered, feeling his heart sink to the lowest part of his body. 

 

“No,” he said again, feeling tears forming in his eyes. Everything was crashing before him and he was nothing but devastated. But did he have any reason to be so sad? 

 

“Misha, wake up! It’s over now!” he said, limping over to her body. He basically fell to his knees before her, and pulled her body on his lap, pushing her hair out of her face, seeing blood on her face and hands. 

 

He tried so hard to hold back his tears, refusing to actually think she was dead. 

 

“Misha, wake up! Listen to your lieutenant!” he was practically choking out the words. “Everything… will be okay, I’ve got you…! I won’t let anything bad happen to you, you know this!” 

 

He pulled her body up, holding her tightly and burying his face on her shoulder. And now, tears were actually flowing from his eyes. “I know you aren’t dead,  **_zvyozdochka_ ** **.** Please come back to me, you… can’t die here, you can’t! I won’t allow you to.” So, maybe it was true; everything he loved became everything he lost. 

 

But not yet, Misha still had a pulse, only it was so weak he barely noticed. “Why didn’t I take you home when I had the chance? Why did I drag you with me?” 

 

He was just talking to himself at this point. 

 

He held her in his arms, expecting her to say something, move, or just breath heavier. 

 

To his surprise, she lifted a hand to put it on his back. He lowered he so he could see her face and she slowly opened her eyes.

 

“Think I’d die so easily?” she chuckled, bringing a weak hand to his cheek. 

 

Only thing is, she could hear him the entire time… he embraced her again, bringing her to her feet. “Up, up,” he said, lifting her up into his arms like a princess. 

 

To their surprise, they saw their comrades flying in the sky to rescue them. Nika and the rest of Mikhail’s team were picked up and now she was flying lower to pick them up. Once Nika landed her chopper close to them, Mikhail raced to meet them, placing Misha on the laps of his trusted comrades; Anton and Vlad. 

 

“Nika, thank you so much,” he started, putting his hand on her seat. “Thank Sveta for sending me. Are you alright?” 

 

“Da, just get us out of here… I’ll explain everything soon.” 

 

Scarlett reached over to him and inspected  his face. 

 

“Niko and I will tend to you soon. Misha looks weak but I think she’ll make it, you… are resilient folks.” Said Scarlett 

 

Nika wasted no time in flying away, surprised how they all ended up together… 

 

“Thank you for everything, Roza. All of you have saved more lives than you’ll ever know.” 

 

And just like that, they survived another day in the hell they called the Earth. But now? They couldn’t let the Stalag go on any longer. “You’re worth fighting for,” Angela chimed with a smile. “Yeah…” Mikhail started, “it’s all worth fighting for, isn’t it? To live in a world without fear. I’d say it’s worth it.”

  
  
  


Soviet or American, anyone who stood against the cursed hoards was a hero in the eyes of the Volkovs. 

 

The Volkov bloodline would run strong and their blood would continue to run deep until every last fascist scum was gone. 


	13. Death Clad In German Leather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: anti-semitic slurs + graphic violence

_ Hey, Scar. How you doing, babe? It’s weird not having you around but I gotta say, I’ve finished a lot recently.  _

_ Remember those dixie bastards stomping about your diner every so often? Well, they tried to trash it when you weren’t there, but don’t worry about it.  _

 

_ I took care of it. I hope you’re doing well, also heard you’re mingling with Ruskies now? Hah, just like you, Scar. I guess you can’t help your heart is red and on the left, no?  _

_ Anyways, I’m in NY now, it’s a whole damn mess. Might just go back to TN and wait for your return. I wish this were longer but I gotta run.  _

 

_ I miss you Scar, come back to me alive and not in the form of a letter.  _

_ See you soon, sugar.  _

 

_ Best regards, Valentine.  _

 

It was rather unlike him to write to her in such a short letter, but he had his own battles to deal with. Avoiding the draft and constant watchful eye of the police, having the Klan on his trail as well. 

 

But to him, the cops and Klan were companions….

 

Misha was just waking up and her entire body was aching from the explosion. “Misha, you’re awake!” Scarlett so happy to see her still alive. “Where… am I?” She groaned, finding herself on a comfortable couch with a fluffy pillow under her. 

 

“Well, right now, we’re in Poland.” 

 

“Where in Poland?” She asked again, looking around to find the house decently luxurious, well based on how she’d lived in the camp, anything with a bread drawer was luxury. 

 

“Warsaw.”

 

Misha jumped up and was panic-stricken, confused and wondering what the hell was happening.

 

“Roza, Roza, we are  _ NAZI  _ Poland, what the hell is everyone thinking? I can’t show my face here.” 

 

Before Scarlett could reply, Mikhail appeared from behind the corner in a change of clothes and freshly washed.

 

“Mikhail, tell me what is happening.” 

 

“Svetlana is housing us. This is her home, at least for now.” He sat next to her and inspected her face, seeing she had a cut on her cheekbone. “She instructed Dominika to take us here, you blacked out before I could tell you… are you upset?” 

 

“You’re goddamn right I'm upset! Are you forgetting where we are?!  _ NAZI OCCUPIED POLAND.  _ We can’t show our faces around here or we’ll be captured, you know this!” Misha was furious. “I trust you with my very life but I find it incredibly foolish to bring us here, our face is known!” She scolded, walking around the room, hand on her hip the entire time. “What is our plan? Live here until the war is over or am I going to rip Klaus to shreds?” Mikhail walked over to her and knew and understood why she was so upset. 

 

She wasn’t wrong. 

 

“Misha,” he began, trying his best to keep a soft tone. 

 

“Don’t you dare patronize me.” She hissed, shooting a harsh glare at him. She was known for her horrible, deathly evil glares when she was upset, he wasn’t immune to it. “Listen to me.” He said sternly, knowing she wanted him to speak to her like she was a soldier. 

 

“Being a soldier does not only mean serving your motherland, but it is keeping yourself above the harsh waters. I know where we are, we have no other option unless you want to storm into Berlin with guns blazing. Do not be brash, Misha,” he began, putting his hand on her shoulder. “I know you itch to fight, much like papochka did; you are no different.” Mikhail took a deep inhale and she could tell he was deeply frustrated with her. “You and I both have seen what war does. We can rest easy, for now. We never left Poland, the Stalag was Nazi-held as well…” He said, dropping his hand to his side. 

  
  


“And I would never put you in harm's way. We will be fine,” he held her hand in his and looked down at her like he always did, sweet and loving eyes. He wouldn’t lie to her and tell her If was fine if he thought disaster would strike.

 

“Now, I’ve run you a bath. Go, enjoy it. I’ll prepare you something to eat.”

 

“Spasibo.” She muttered, kicking off her shoes and strutting into the bathroom for a nice bath. Mikhail knew how upset she was, only because she wanted to protect her friends in her party. Scarlett sighed and could feel Mikhail’s heartbreaking for his sister. “Give her time, Mickey. She’s just worried about you. I can tell,” Scarlett comforted him, patting his shoulder. “I mean, I’m not happy to be here either. But it just happened to be this way. I’m with lovely angels making my time away from America so much easier.”

 

Mikhail was deeply surprised by her words, even touched by them. “Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll whip you some  _ potato pancakes, hm?”  _

 

Scarlett gave him a smile, all she needed was the iconic red lips and she’d been Scarlett O’Hara. 

 

“Whatever that is, malysh. So…  _ blini  _ with… potato?” 

 

Scarlett clasped her hands together and tried to piece it together. “I reckon if we’re on the same page. How about this: Help me out and I’ll answer your questions along the way. Sound peachy?” She asked, giving him a head tilt. 

 

“Sounds… peachy.” Mikhail was highly confused but like he’d admit it. 

 

Scarlett pulled the bag of potatoes from under the sink and sorted them out, Mikhail hovering behind her. He would always hover behind people as they cooked or did anything he was skilled at. Lord forbid they were sharpening a knife… 

 

“Alright, so… It seems I’m limited. May I borrow your knife? I have to skin them, and if you could, reach the flour for me.” 

 

He was apprehensive about giving his army knife up, but he pulled it from his thigh and handed her the blade with the blade facing towards him. “Hm, are you asking me to stab you in the chest, cowboy?” she teased, grabbing the handle of the knife and admiring the sharpness of the blade. 

 

“Are you thinking about something, Roza? Do you hate me that much you can’t contain your immense urge to stab me?” he laughed deeply. “Besides, you  _ could not  _ stab me with this angle… not very well at least. Do you even have hand to hand training?” he asked, grabbing a small container of flour from the top shelf. “A little, they didn’t teach us much close range. I can shoot a cheat and dig a bullet from your leg, that’s what I do, hun,” she said, starting to peel the skins of the potatoes. Mikhail could tell she was clumsy with the knife, but hardly anyone handled a knife like that. 

 

“Net? What a pity. I’ll teach you close quarters, you’ll need it if ever I’m not around to rescue the princess. Every woman I know was trained by me.” Mikhail meant his offer and did plan to teach her, he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

 

Before she could reply to him, she lost her concentration over the knife and sliced the palm of her hand pretty deeply, enough to make her drop the knife, having it almost land on her barefoot. 

 

Clumsy indeed. 

 

Mikhail grabbed the knife off the ground and put it back in his strap and grabbed her hand quickly and ran cold water from the sink. He didn’t really  _ mean  _ to pull her so hard, but he saw blood drip over her hand, perhaps he panicked. 

 

“Ahg, you don’t have to manhandle me, cowboy. Ain’t the first time I’ve done something silly with a knife.” She groaned, the stinging sensation in her hand getting worse. 

 

“Ahh, sorry, lapochka,” he said, loosening his grip on her wrist. “It’s deep, I need to cover it… but I’ll need you to wrap it.” 

 

Mikhail didn’t realize how rough he did most things, having a death grip on her once again, she knew he meant well… 

 

Scarlett reached for the bandages stored on the counter and tossed them to him. 

 

“Sit down, Roza. Calm down,” he urged, applying pressure to her hand to stop the bleeding. “Never been the best at wrapping hands but I’ll try for you.” 

 

“Well, if you don’t try, you ain’t getting potato pancakes!” she protested, seething as the slice on her hand increased in pain. 

 

Mikhail rested Scar’s hand on his knee, unwrapping the bandage. “Tell me about your homeland, Roza,” Mikhail mused, beginning to wrap her hand, pulling the bandage tightly around the wound. 

 

“Well, I’ll tell you this: It ain’t easy for a lot of us. My fella, Valentine, has it pretty rough but he makes it, he’s one tough cookie to crack. Guess it’s that Cuban blood in ‘em.” 

 

“What makes it difficult for him?”

 

“Everybody thinks he’s the thief, stealing their jobs, even when he’s out there protecting their sorry asses. Don’t get me started on the  _ fucking pigs  _ either… Pardon my French, but do you know how much it angers me to see them walk all over him like he’s a criminal?” she gritted through her teeth, beginning to worry about her boy. “You know, I love my country. Proud, red-blooded American. But you know what I don’t love? How we’ve forgotten our damn roots. Now we got backward hicks and Klan waving eggheads. The America I know and love is inviting to different folks. I ain’t gonna turn you away from my home just because you look a little darker than me.” 

 

Mikhail was almost surprised by her comments. “But ya know, hun? Don’t let a couple o’ hicks taint the name of my country.” Scarlett said with a smile. “Let me tell you this, sugarplum, my daddy wasn’t like that. I’m not like that, neither is Angel. My momma? Not an evil bone in her body…” 

 

It was clear she was missing her home, her friends, her family. 

 

The only thing she had left was her gold cross necklace. 

 

“It seems like you come from a good family, Roza,” he said with a light smile, wrapping up to her wrist, tying a bow to top it off. “What did you do before the war?” he quizzed, resting his chin in his palm. 

 

“Diner owner, still do… but I was a farm girl, you know, picking pumpkins and horseback riding.” Scarlett looked at the bow and smiled, finding it very cute he put the effort into making it pretty for her. “And well, I went to nursing school… then joined the army. Life wasn’t too interesting, babe, now… it’s pretty nice. I get to hang around pretty blondes and Ruskies first hand.” 

 

When she got to her feet, Mikhail followed in her footsteps to make sure she was alright, she was injured after all. “No need to baby me, Mickey. I sliced my hand, I didn’t break a leg, you never struck me as a sweet-and-caring-type, scary lieutenant!” she jested, continuing to skin the potatoes. 

 

“I think I should handle the skinnings, malysh…” 

 

“You call me that alllll the time but never bother to tell me what it means! Are you calling me something _rude?_ ” 

 

“Not at all! In fact, you would know if I was calling you something cruel based on my tone… but no,  I am not calling you something mean, how could I when you have the cheeks of… how do say… roses!” Mikhail exclaimed with a pair of eyes the sizes of dinner plates. “See, I  _ know  _ English but  _ changing  _ things to English is difficult.”

 

Scarlett chuckled and handed him the veggies to skin. Mikhail had gone quiet, listening to the outside world, hearing a knock at the door.  _ ‘Damn Nazi…’ the blonde thought to himself.  _

 

_ “ _ Ignore the door and stay quiet,” he whispered, hearing footsteps coming into the kitchen. 

 

_ Sveta.  _

 

_ “Hallo!”  _ she greeted in German, eyes glued to the Swastika patch on his arm. 

 

Mikhail watched her signal for him to get down on the floor, only by wiggling her finger down. Mikhail grabbed Scarlett and lowered her down to the floor. 

 

“ _ What can I do for you, sir?” she asked.  _

 

_ “Residents within the home?”  _

 

_ “Only me, sir. My name is Peta Wittkamp, German reporter.”  _

 

_ “Oh! Then I am sorry for the bother--”  _

 

_ “No, no! Come in, I insist, my friend.”  _

 

Mikhail thought she was insane. She coaxed him and told him to sit at the table, the only thing hiding the Russian and American was a pantry door. Scarlett covered her mouth with her hand and looked back at Mikhail, confused and very worried. 

 

Sveta passed him a glass of water, stirring a mysterious liquid in it when he was not looking. “Lovely home, miss,” he said kindly. 

 

“Danke, danke. Surely you need the rest, ja?” 

 

“Ja! Haha!” he replied with a laugh, happily taking a sip of the water. 

 

Mikhail was so close to breaking his neck. He listened to the footsteps in the house, knowing Misha would be coming out any second. He was beginning to lose his patience with Svetlana, finding her far too secretive, even for a spy. His worst nightmare came true when  _ Misha  _ walked right into the kitchen, plain as the day.

 

Her jaw dropped, unarmed and defenseless. She looked at Svetlana, she was furious. 

 

“Volkova…?” he said, squinting his eyes to make sure he was seeing straight.

 

“Keeping prisoners, are we? You’re coming with me.” Misha was about to grab her tactical knife but she realized she was in civilian clothes. 

 

“You are mistaken, sir, I would never harbor Soviets, I have met this… Volkova and this is not her.” 

 

“Truly? Then speak, if she is not Soviet.” 

 

Misha was really stuck in a rock and a hard place, she knew killing him would only cause more trouble. 

 

The silence was thick and Misha was thinking so fast her memory was barely saved. “No, I won’t lie. I  _ am  _ Volkova and I won’t hide that name. Ever. Especially when a  _ little nazi cyka  _ steps to me,” she growled, grabbing the cup of water and throwing it in his face, blinding him for only a second. This gave her just enough time to land a heavy punch to his jaw, feeling a few teeth loosen. Sveta couldn’t keep up the game anymore, Misha’s sudden thinking was the death of her now. Sveta swiftly wrapped her arm around his neck, finding it very hard to contain his squirming body. “Aye, Volkov. Give me a hand.” She grunted through her teeth. 

 

Mikhail wouldn’t leave a lady waiting. 

 

“Why don’t you shut that mouth of yours before I cut out your tongue?” Mikhail threatened, taking him over from Sveta. He was strong enough to hold him to the wall with little problem. 

 

“You may not respect my words but you will respect a knife in your chest,” Mikhail remembered why he was blessed to carry that name of Volkov in this very moment. 

 

The German put up a fight but soon realized the tip of Mikhail’s knife was already drawing blood. “Do you want to die today, German? Tell me everything you know.” 

 

He shook his head no. 

 

It was no use. 

 

“Fine,” Mikhail hissed, ripping the knife from his skin, drawing a bit of blood. 

 

Sveta walked up to Mikhail and patted his back, then looking at the German. 

 

“You poor soul… I can’t believe I had to send my  _ puppy  _ after you. Isn’t that right, Mikhail? Cut out his tongue and let the crows enjoy it.” 

 

A look of horrible fear filled the German’s face as Mikhail’s knife was shoved into his mouth, the horrible pain filling his body. 

 

Scarlett began to question Mikhail’s mortality. 

 

Only she wasn’t any better, perhaps. Mikhail wasn’t a murderer or a sadist for that matter, he was only given an order and he did not question orders. 

 

None. 

 

Svetlana was his higher up, he had no place to question her. 

 

Besides, like he cared about giving a Nazi a bit of pain.

 

Scarlett watched in… horror as Mikhail finished the job, blood coating his hands and side of his face. 

 

“Remember the name,  _ comrade,”  _ he whispered, dropping his knife to the ground. 

 

“His body will begin to break down, the substance I gave him will be kicking in soon… kick him into the basement and I’ll tend to him.” 

 

“Da.” 

 

Scarlett had enough of this madness. 

 

She watched as he tumbled down the stairs. 

 

“Sveta, this isn’t right. There is no need for torture.” 

 

“I did no such thing, Roza.” 

 

Scarlett was oddly worried about them, what was the war doing to their minds?” 

 

Misha swallowed hard, even a little chilled. 

 

No one had ever seen Mikhail in such a way. 

 

“I’ll finish cooking,” Scarlett said flatly, aggressively chopping potatoes with a bit too much force. She was shocked, not because the German was killed, but because of the sheer violence in their hearts. 

 

She supported the purge of all Nazis, but she did not support pointless pain and suffering, to anyone. 

 

It wasn’t in her blood. She had her own set of kills but never had she witnessed such violence with her own eyes. 

 

Sveta went her own way, Misha following to leave the two alone. 

 

Mikhail washed the blood from his hands and saw Scarlett mindlessly chopping away. “Scarlett,” he began. 

 

She didn’t look up at him, she only mixed ingredients together. “I… didn’t intend for you to see this. But it was an order given and I followed. Surely you are not angry at me?” 

  
  


**_“For he is God’s servant for your good. But if you do wrong, be afraid, for he does not bear the sword in vain. For he is the servant of God, an avenger who carries out God’s wrath on the wrongdoer.”_ ** she quoted Romans in the Bible, her support being rather ambiguous. 

 

“You carried God’s sword to the wrongdoer,” she said quietly, cracking an egg into the mix. “I have no reason to mourn or shed tears, I can not. It is the American way to show only hate and disgust towards Nazis. I do not believe in violence towards anyone. I have not seen the war like you have and I don’t know what it’s done to you.” 

 

Scarlett was a good woman and she knew Mikhail was a good man, he proved to her he was a good man. 

 

The warm scent of frying potatoes in the cast iron pan, smoke filling the room as he poured more batter into the pan. 

 

“I’m just on edge,” she broke out, patting the mix down. “And forgive me for giving you a hard time.” 

 

Mikhail let out a sigh and hovered behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “You’re fine,” he reassured her, running his hands down her arms. “If I had a choice in the matter, I never would have lifted a gun in my life. Neither would Misham but it was the way the world was turning. If it were my way, I’d be teaching a class now.” 

 

His dreams were slashed by a sharp blade that is war and he would walk across the blade without shoes until he reached safe ground. She flipped the pancake and the under was cooked to perfection, crispy and browned. 

 

“It looks wonderful,” he praised softly. It was his first taste of an American dish made by an American so he was very curious. “Take a seat, I’ll bring you a plate.” 

 

She made more than she thought and gave him the biggest plate, knowing he was probably starving and missing a home-cooked meal. “Eat up.” 

 

Scarlett slid up the plate and sat beside him, crossing her legs over. Mikhail was more than happy to wolf down the food. “Slow down!” she scolded, wagging her finger at him like a pup. He didn’t listen to her, it was just a Mikhail thing, he felt the need to wolf down anything anyone put in front of him ever since the Stalag, food was a luxury item and he didn’t plan on letting it grow cold or go to waste. 

 

She smiled fondly at him and found herself staring at him with a pair of lazy eyes and her chin resting in her palm. 

 

He finished the plate very quickly and looked up at her a few times, wondering if she knew she was even staring at him. 

 

The golden locks on his head were messy and really needed to be brushed out, but it was charming indeed. “Roza, it was delicious, thank you very very much,” he said as he finished the last bites. 

 

“Mhm? Oh, I’m glad you enjoyed it. No one goes hungry when I’m around.” 

 

As she prepared plates for the others, Mikhail cleared his throat and almost hesitated to tell her what was on his mind. 

 

“Roza, you know…” he began, trying to find the words. “When I was in the Stalag, it was rare I was  _ given  _ food or drink.  _ No one  _ gave us food, let alone even  _ cooked  _ it.” 

 

Scarlett turned her head to look at him, feeling a great amount of pity. “So, a simple thank you does not feel right.” He thought he was overreacting or being silly but the simple gesture. 

 

She walked up to him and cupped his cheek in her hand and only smiled at him. 

 

“Well, you aren’t in that place anymore. And wherever you are with me, rest easy you won’t be goin’ hungry anytime soon.” He was heavily touched by her words, so much he was dumbfounded. 

 

The air between them was warm and sweet, reminding them of their homelands oceans apart. “And always know, when I’m around… you won’t go hungry, cold, too hot, or lonely. Think of me… as a guardian angel.” 

 

Scarlett leaned down to give him a gentle kiss on his cheek, running her hand up his face and into his freshly washed hair, the softness and pleasant fragrance filling her lungs. He felt at peace with her fingers in his hair, her lips on his cheek, and her hair falling over his shoulders. 

 

“Everything will be alright. We’ve made it this far.” she comforted him, resting her chin on his shoulder. 

 

“ _ We’ll be alright, Mickey.”  _

 

Mikhail was deeply shocked by her act of kindness and buried his face in her shoulder and slowly rubbed his hand on the small of her back. “Maybe you’re right, Roza.” 

 

Scarlett smiled softly. 

 

_ “Have a little faith, God won’t leave you anytime soon.”  _

 

She knew he wasn’t a religious man but she hoped her words would bring him comfort. 

 

Everyone was so tired of running. 

So tired. 

 

All they wanted to do was sleep until the war was over but no matter what they seemed to do, nothing seemed to end it quicker. 

 

Both the Volkovs knew they’d die in war. They just knew it. Misha only hoped she passed with a rifle in hand. She had already had a close encounter with death and the memory was haunting her to this day. She couldn’t sleep, the sounds of the blast would ring in her ears and she would jolt awake, drenched in sweat and soaking in fear.  

 

She ended up crashing in Nikolay’s bed after the stressful encounter in the kitchen and she was tossing and turning, groaning in her sleep, nails digging into the sheets from the terror that was filling her mind. Lucky for her, she never slept anywhere without a knife under her pillow and she knew if she even sat on his bed, she’d sleep. So of course, tucking the knife under the softness was the first thing she did. 

 

“Misha?” Nikolay called gently, peeking into the room. He walked over to her and put his hand on her leg. 

 

“Misha, it’s alright, wake up.’ He cooed, sitting beside her. 

 

Misha jolted awake and grabbed the knife under the pillow with the speed of light and pressed it to his throat, much like their very first encounter. 

 

It took her a moment to understand what she was doing and the look in his eyes would forever haunt her dreams until her last breath. 

 

“Going to slit my throat?” he asked, leaning away from her blade. 

 

“Not today,” she breathed, dropping it to the ground. The tension lasted for a moment when she was ready to kill him, her blind fear in the split second made her so weak. “I’m sorry,” she breathed, running her wrist over her forehead. 

 

“I can’t get an ounce of good sleep. It’s these  _ terrors.”  _  she began, pulling her hair of tightly. 

 

“Every damn time I try to sleep, it’s every single night and I swear I can’t fight like this.” 

 

Typical Misha, always thinking about fighting. “And you know? Part of me misses the constant suffering because at least I knew what was going to happen. Now I’m lost, lost without a purpose.” 

 

Misha gripped her fists and shut her eyes in sheer rage. 

 

Rage. 

Rage. 

She was living, breathing, rage. 

 

“What if it’s all better when a bullet hits my temple, hm? War kills you, Nikolay…” she sighed, feeling like a total fool for spilling her heart out. 

 

“Forget I said anything.” she snapped, mostly to herself. 

 

“Net. I’m not forgetting. How can I forget everything you told me when it will stick to me like a bee to a sweet flower? I want to help you, Misha. I want this.” 

 

“Can you help me? What’s left to help? As far as I’m concerned, I’m a weapon. A soldier. A warrior. A bullet in the air. You can’t help me, Nikolay.” 

 

Misha looked up at him with red eyes, desperation and a bit of fear almost.   

 

“I’m not weak,” she began with a chuckle. 

 

“And I don’t expect people to fight my battles for me, I want to fight them. And I love you, Nikolay. So much, more than I need the air to breath. But I find it cruel to give you the heavy burden of a soldier’s heart.” 

 

The doctor dropped to his knees and clasped her hands in his, resting his head in her lap. “ _ You will never be a burden too heavy to carry, even if I have to walk across glass, hot coals. You are no burden to me.”  _

 

She ran her fingers through his velvety hair and leaned down to wrap her arms around him, her nose resting in the warmth of his locks. “I don’t deserve you,” Misha whispered, holding him tightly. 

 

Nikolay thought she deserved the world. But why would she fall for him? 

 

To himself, all he was was a broken man. He was a missing limb. 

 

Even with his prosthetic, nothing felt right to him. 

 

“I love you, Nikolay. Even if I don’t say it, or let alone act like I do.” 

 

Misha was rare to open up to anyone, keeping herself balled up and tight. 

 

She inhaled the sweetness of his hair, smelling of roses and lavender. The world around them was clear, warless and free. Free of hate and crimes against the people. 

 

He had his arms wrapped around her hips and his face resting against her stomach. 

 

“You’re so much more than man, Nikolay. So much more than what any Nazi may call you, and so much more than what the war has taken from you.” 

 

Nikolay smiled and gripped her back gently. 

 

He wished she’d take her own advice. 

 

So the evening fell over them and Sveta was sitting outside, looking over Nazi Poland, twirling a knife in her hands. She had a plan, a good one, at that. But it would take a lot of planning. 

 

She knew the Red Army had plans of destroying the Stalag in only a few months, and winter was slowly making its way to the land. Part of her didn’t want the Volkovs to partake in the attack, she knew it may be too much for them to handle. 

 

After everything they went through, going back would be living hell, even if they stood with an army.    
  
“Ahh, Nazi Poland…” she muttered to herself, seeing a group of German soldiers patrolling the street. She watched from her balcony and twirled her knife, strongly considering throwing it at the man who was getting away from his team. 

 

Surely the stray dogs would enjoy a fresh batch of meat. 

 

Svetlana inhaled the cold air, feeling a pair of eyes on her. “Who goes, friend? Perhaps it is Myshka? The Babnik?” 

 

“It’s Angel.” Angela chuckled from the doorframe. “Oh! Even better.” 

 

“I… just wanted to say thank ya. For all you’ve done for us, maybe it don’t mean much from an American Pinko, but… Ahg, I ain’t good with words. Just thank you.” 

 

Angela huffed, rubbing the back of her neck. 

 

“Don’t thank me, precious Angel,” Sveta said softly, letting her arm drop to the ground, her fingertips brushing the ground. “It must be hard for you, net? Small town girl, only eighteen and thrown into a world of hate? You poor thing.” 

 

Angel gulped. “I’m one tough cookie to crack, Sveta.” She chuckled softly. “I know that, Angel. We all know that. But we have to look after the baby of the group, in Mikhail’s words. He likes you, Angela. Thinks you’re a good girl and doesn’t want to see you hurt. Once he’s got your back, rest easy he’ll catch a grenade for you.  _ Trust me.”  _

 

Sveta knew Angel felt alone in a world where her own kind was miles away. “And believe me, once you’ve got  _ both  _ Volkovs by your side, there’s not a bullet in the world that’s going to touch you.” 

 

Angela smiled warmly, understanding she was a well-loved part of the team. 

 

“Thanks, Sveta. I needed that.” 

 

“Anytime, kid.” 

 

Angela took a deep inhale and left Sveta to her own devices. Angela was homesick, missing her friends and really missed Scarlett. 

 

She saw her every day in Poland but she wasn’t the same. 

 

Scarlett wasn’t as bright, lively, full of joy, and sweet. 

 

She was becoming cruel but not to those around her, yet herself. 

 

Angela saw Mikhail sleeping at the kitchen table, still in his day clothes and heavy boots. “Hey, wake up.” 

 

“I was resting my eyes,” he muttered. 

 

“Then slap my ass and butter my biscuit.” 

 

A highly confused look formed on his face. _“I… what?_ ” He still had to get used to her way of speaking and now he was blatantly confused and hadn’t the slightest idea what she was talking about. 

 

“Angel, Angel,  _ please  _ make sense!” he laughed, trying to put it together. “I take it you don’t want me to  _ literally  _ do that? Or maybe you want me to give you buttering for the biscuit?”  __ Mikhail was really stumbling on his English and Angel was trying to keep a straight face. “You know, forget I said it. You’re tired and confused. Sleep.” 

 

“Fine, fine…” When he got to his feet, Angel has to look up at him as their height difference was very noticeable. “Never noticed how tall you were until now,” she mused, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

“Want a ride on my shoulders? A tiny thing like you wouldn’t be pretty cute, kind of like a bird on my shoulder.” 

 

“Oh, shut up!” Angel bursted out, punching his arm with a chuckle. 

 

“I’m not  _ tiny.  _ I’m…” 

 

“Small but mighty, darling.” 

 

“You got that right! Bet I could throw a punch to your jaw too.” Angela said with a smirk. 

 

“Assuming you could reach my face, anyway.” 

 

“Just go to sleep, Mickey Mouse.” 

 

He smiled at her and saw Misha’s face in her smirk, her smile, and her playful punch. Everything about her screamed Misha. 

 

Angel was scrappy as hell, tough as nails, stubborn as a mule, and sweet like peaches. “That's lieutenant Mickey Mouse to you.” he retorted sharply like he was talking to one of this own soldiers. 

 

“Alright, sir. Sleep tight.” 

 

Angela shot him a wink and trotted into the living room to crash. 

 

The next morning came and the Volkovs were the first to wake, doing intense workouts in their rooms, practicing their hand to hand combat skills together, the blades gliding through the air like a warm knife into butter. 

 

“Sharp,” he breathed heavily, giving a swift kick in her opposite direction while she did the same to him. It was beautiful to watch, the highly trained soldiers working in unison and moving with the speed and grace of wind and lightning. Hair flying and sweat buildings, the Volkovs repeated the same moves several more times, knives gliding under their chins, it was a good thing they weren’t enemies as they would have slashed each other’s throats by now. Warm memories were racing back to them when they were back in the Union, training together almost every day. 

 

“You know, myshka, you’ve gotten better. Almost as good as me, dare I say!” he said, flipping his hair back. He smirked at her as she flung her hair out of the tight bun. 

 

“Hate to interrupt but… I need some help,” Scarlett chimed in. 

 

Both of them rushed to her aid. 

 

“Da?” They said in unison. 

 

Sveta greeted them, dressed very formally. “One of you, I do not care who needs to come with me. I was asked to meet a friend and it is not safe to walk alone.” 

 

Misha and Mikhail looked at each other. “Nika can come with me if she desires, you two have seen enough.” 

 

“I’ll go. The Volkovs need their rest,” Nika chimed in, glancing at the two. 

 

“Then follow me swiftly, Nika. Better give up your pins to Mikhail.” 

 

Nika undid then and handed them to Mikhail, giving him a death stare. “Lose them and I’ll kill you.” 

 

The woman walked out, the clicking of their shoes echoing down the streets. They were empty apart from waving Swastika flags on street corners and terribly anti-semitic art in windows and on brick walls. 

 

Nika scanned the streets and saw children running in the distance, laughing and screaming for joy. On the other side of the street, she saw a young man, perhaps around 20 years old, with a gold star on his shirt. She knew if he was spotted, the guards would probably leave him in a ditch to bleed to death. She watched as he ducked behind corners as guards walked by, fearing for his life. 

 

“Hold on Sveta…” she whispered, pointing to the man. 

 

“Da…” 

 

Nika walked discreetly to the boy, feeling the eyes of guards on her. 

 

_ Talk about lack of damn privacy.  _

 

“Eyes up, young lady,” one joked as they walked by her. She chuckled, resisting the urge to insult them and all their mothers. When the man made eye contact with her, he assumed she was a German woman about to attack him. She hushed her lip and coaxed him over. 

 

Slowly, he crept to her and he knew her intentions when she pointed to his badge. “ _ Where are you going, friend? I’ll cover you.”   _

 

**W** hen he got closer to her, she covered his badge with her jacket and let him lead the way. 

 

_ Roman Kasowski - Polish/Hungarian Jew, only 19 years old and scrappy as can be. Donning tattered clothes and dirt on his face, he stood like a deer in the headlights.  _

 

“Bakery,” Roman said flatly. He walked into her, she covered his gold star with her jacket. He was surprised by her act of kindness, no one showed him this. He was distant, eyeing all the guards and soldiers. 

 

Roman wasn’t kind. At all. He was angry, furious and trusted no one at all, let alone the woman beside him. But he was willing to take that chance of it meant he could eat. The thought of shanking her was still in his mind but she hadn’t done anything to provoke him. 

 

Only one Jewish-owned store was still open and he tried to go there as often as possible but his funds were in the dirt. He shot a glare at the Nazi who’d been eyeing him the whole time, Nika only pulled him closer to her side, keeping the cover. 

 

When they were close, Roman wasted no time and paid for his goods. The store was almost empty and he shared few words with the frontman, his eyes telling enough to fill entire white pages. Perhaps an American thing, nonetheless… 

 

She waited for him outside the store. 

 

“Finished?” she asked, with a brow perk. 

 

To her surprise, he replied with ‘da.’ 

 

“Want me to take you back?” 

 

“Got nowhere to go back to. But thanks.” Roman shrugged and felt her eyes still on him. “The nights are cold, do you want a place to stay?” he could not deny the Polish nights were getting chilly and the ground wasn’t comfortable. “Fine.” 

 

Nika smiled. 

 

“Good, you’ll find like-minded folks with me.” 

 

He followed her rather grudgingly, hiding his star. Until they were stopped by a guard. Roman wasn’t scared of Nazi punks, let alone intimidated by them. “Stop right there. Traffic check.” 

 

Nika gulped. “What for, huh? Wanting to intimidate the Jews and ladies?” Roman asked cheekily. 

 

He stepped out behind Nikas’ jacket and seemed to proudly show off his star. “Whatcha gonna do? Already put me in the slums while you look at us like cattle.” 

 

“Ahh, why didn’t we put  _ you  _ in the camp, sleepy eyes?” 

 

Roman wouldn’t let that slide. 

 

“ _ Don’t call me sleepy eyes, punk!” Roman gritted between teeth, aiming a perfectly square punch to the man’s face, taking a few of his teeth with him.  _

 

The man was knocked back, groaning from the pain of his now screwed up teeth, blood gushing from the new wounds. No one talked to Roman like that without getting hit, he’d grown used to the hate, racial injustice, and cruelty. He was tough and too brave for his own good. “ _ Who are you calling sleepy eyes now, huh? Dupek.”  _

 

Nika was very surprised and knew they had to get out of there before they were arrested. Thankfully no one else was around. Roman started to drag his body into an alley to rot, much like his own people were treated. 

 

_ “I hope you suffer back here where no one can find you.”  _

 

Roman wasn’t born violent but he was made to be violent.

 

“Come, we have to go. NOW.” 

 

Sveta was beginning to worry about her girl until she saw her with a new companion. 

 

“We need to get home. Now. He’s coming with, I’ll explain later.”

 

Sveta didn’t ask questions. 

 

When they made it home, Mikhail, Misha, Scarlett, and Nikolay were all chatting in the kitchen. 

 

Roman jerked away from everyone and leaned on the countertops. “Made a friend… needs his hand wrapped up.” Scarlett rushed to his aid. 

 

“Name’s Roman. Didn’t expect all you people. None of are you Polish, I can tell.” 

 

“That’s right, kiddo. Name’s Scarlett, but call me Roza. American here.” she said, gathering her first aid supplies. 

 

“Who said we’re taking in strangers into our home?” Sveta asked, confused. 

 

“He’s not a stranger. In fact, we  _ owe  _ him. He’s got that gold star, nazis want him dead. Turns out he can punch. Knocked a bastard’s teeth right out. Which explains his hand.” 

 

Scarlett ushered him to sit down. He was hesitant, all the people in the room made him uncomfortable. “I kindly ask everyone but Nika and the Volkovs to leave, it’s crowded.” 

 

Once they left, he sat beside her and gave her his hand. 

 

“What’s your name? I want to know more about you, if I may be so bold to ask.” Scarlett asked tenderly, cleaning his hand wounds with a cotton ball and vodka. “Roman Kasowski.” 

 

“Alright… how old are you? You look very young but tough.” 

 

“19.” 

 

“Mhmm, so I was right,” she muttered, resting his hand on her kneecap. “Roman, huh?” Mikhail chimed in. 

 

“Yes, lieutenant,” Roman retorted. 

 

“You know each other?” Misha asked. 

 

“Hah, don’t need to know him to know who he is,  _ Misha.  _ I know you.  _ Moscow Wolves  _ \- we call you that in the slums when a new paper is published. Surely you remember this photo?” Roman reached into his jacket and handed them the picture Petra took of them when they were in their cell together. “You’re Stalag survivors, good to meet you in person.” 

 

He ripped his hand away from Scarlett as the burn became too much. “Easy now, pumpkin, it’s gonna hurt but an infection will hurt more.” 

 

Roman huffed and gave her his hand. He was surprised by her tenderness, her softness. “Roman, are you hungry?” Roza asked sweetly, gesturing to the plate of potato pancakes. 

 

Roman shrugged. “I am but I’m not going to eat your food.”

 

“If you’re hungry, eat, sweetheart.” She added, beginning to wrap up his hand. “Fine,” Roman said with a faint smile. 

 

Scarlett wrapped his hand gently, eyes fixated on each stitch in the fabric. Mikhail leaned against the table and crossed his arms. “Good to meet you too, comrade. You look like you’ve seen it all, hm?” Mikhail said smoothly.

 

“I’ve seen enough. Seen enough starving kids and dead men.”

 

Roman shut his eyes. “Don’t know why you are here, friends. You made a big mistake. And why’s an American here?” 

 

“It wasn’t us who made a mistake, it was Klaus who thought he could restrain Volkovs,” Misha muttered deeply, leaning into her brother. 

 

Mikhail chuckled and put his arm around her shoulders. “Well, this American is here because I’m a nurse, combat specialist but no fighter.” Scar chimed into the conversation. 

 

“I told him I wanted his blood and that isn’t going to change anytime soon. He’s nothing but another target running from my red bullets.” Misha continued, rolling her neck. “And I’ll make sure his men fall before I get to him, don’t worry about a thing.” Misha was more than confident in her training, so much she was borderline arrogant. But on the very thin line is where she sat. 

 

“Then you’ll be pleased to know they’re bringing in a truckload from Warsaw to Grady. If you save them, I’ll be in your debt.” Roman began, his innocent eyes suddenly taking a dark turn. 

 

“Da. With my traps, they’ll be home free. Plus, I wouldn’t mind upping my Nazi kill count, isn’t that right, Mikhail?” 

 

“Right, myshka.” 

 

Roman smiled. “Good. Go, it is just on the outskirts of Warsaw, we are on the edge of the city and you’ll be on their path to Grady if you go to the south.  Chazak u'varuch!” 

 

_ Be strong and blessed.  _

 

So the evening came and the Volkovs prepared for their trip, a long one, but a day will do. Tiptoeing around the Germans proved to be difficult but as usual, they seemed to manage. They’d walked close together, hands linked like chains and their footsteps in unison. Misha waited in the trees, eyes glued to her scope, her finger resting on the trigger. Her traps had been set; tripwire that would trigger a smoke bomb, disorienting the group. Normally these trucks were driven with four men, they’d watched from their cells how such things worked. 

 

When the vehicle was driving along the dirt road, Misha followed them with her scope, one eye pinched shut. 

 

The sun was starting to set, the trees and valleys growing colder as the night settled in slowly. 

 

And boom, smoke filled the air and Mikhail waited in position, holding a silenced handgun. 

 

It was a shame they weren’t as quiet as most people thought… 

 

He watched one exit the vehicle and Misha shot between his feet just to taunt him, she was hidden after all. 

 

“What was that?!” 

 

Misha chuckled under her breath and aimed between his eyes, the loud bang of her rifle startling the other men.

 

“Under fire! Take cover!” The other three ducked behind the truck. 

 

_ Goddamn right you are. Misha thought to herself, following their boots from under the truck.  _

 

Her bolt action made clicks when she prepared the next bullet and this could be heard by the men.

 

“Snipers.” 

 

If only they knew it was only one… 

 

Misha looked down at Mikhail and tapped her knuckles on the wood. “ _ Go get them. For freedom, for the motherland.”  _

 

Mikhail nodded, his blood pumping so hard his hands were beginning to shake. 

 

He moved through the bushes and shot a single bullet by their feet. 

 

They pulled out their weapons and one peeked his head behind the truck only to have Misha’s bullet between his eyes. 

 

“TAKE OUT THAT SNIPER. NOW.” 

 

With only two left, Misha knew they could handle them. 

 

Mikhail swore Misha could read his mind at times, now being one of them. 

 

Misha jumped down from the tree, surprised she landed on both her feet. With lightning speed, she seemed to switch between handgun and rifle, rifle to handgun. She pulled the trigger and only had one left, which she still held him at gunpoint. 

 

“Put your hands in the air unless you want to end up like your friends,” Misha growled, walking towards the soldier. 

 

“Ja! Just don’t kill me!” 

 

“Mikhail! Cover me in case more show,” Misha called, feeling as if they weren’t alone. 

 

So he did, he pressed his back to hers once he jogged to her. He held his PPS machine gun tightly in his hands, scanning the area around. 

 

“Are you headed to 324? That  _ fucking torture prison? You don’t want me to kill you but you’ll send these innocents to your camp?”  _

 

“I have no choice, they’ll-” 

 

“You  **_ALWAYS_ ** had a choice! Have you any idea what they do to people? Or do you cover your eyes like a child? Tell me everything you know and I will consider sparing you.” 

 

He shook. 

 

“The Captain is preparing a parade in Warsaw in the coming months and h-he has plans of building another camp soon.” 

 

“Where?” 

 

“I do not know. He keeps it under wraps. If anyone dares speak of it, he has us beaten or worse.” 

 

“You work for him out of fear? Of course.” 

 

Misha lowered her gun and nudged for Mikhail’s attention. 

 

“I will let you live because I am no murderer,” Misha lowered her gun and walked around the man. “Drop your weapon, you may have been useful but don’t think I’ll trust a Nazi.” 

 

He did as she asked. 

 

“Unlock the car.” 

 

He did. “Mikhail, help the captives.” 

 

“Da!” 

 

He went to work and helped everyone out of the truck, holding the hands of the elderly and children. 

 

Joy overcame them, unfiltered joy and raw happiness. “See these faces? You were taking them to their death. Drop the act. Burn the uniform, rip the flag, and  _ shred  _ that Swastika patch on your arm.” Misha placed a hand on his shoulder. “If you want to live, you’ll do as I said. You’re going to look at these innocent faces and only see a target?” Misha pulled matches from her chest pocket. 

 

“ _ Burn it.”  _

 

Mikhail searched the truck, noticing a little girl in the back corner. “Young lady, it’s alright,” he called gently, tapping his fingers on the metal. She looked up at him with teary eyes, a coal-stained face, and messy, unbrushed hair. 

 

“Don’t worry, we’ve handled those who have harmed you.” 

 

She crawled to him, her thin arms struggling to hold her up. Mikhail stepped into the truck with ease, his heavy books shifting the truck. “Come, I have you.” He scooped her up into his arms and leaped off the platform, feeling her tiny hands grip on his shirt. 

 

The German ripped his swastika from his arm and burned it, along with his jacket and all his pins. 

 

Misha turned to Mikhail and the little girl had her face buried in his shoulder. She smiled warmly.

 

“You are free; free from the evil that binds you. Now,  go. Help us in the fight against the fascist vermin that plagues this land.” 

 

Misha walked over to Mikhail and firmly patted his shoulder.

 

“You all may be wondering who we are and what to do next, let me explain to you all.” 

 

“My name is Misha Volkov, sister of lieutenant Mikhail Volkov, who stands beside me, we are Soviet soldiers and survivors of Nazi experimentation at Stalag 324, where you all were headed.” 

Misha balled her fists, holding back so much emotion as she spoke to the crowd of captives. 

 

“This fight is not over, but you all are safe for now. We will not allow any more innocent people to be taken by the Nazi scum that fills your motherland of Poland.” 

 

“You, German, bring these people to safety. If I ever find out you betrayed me, I will not hesitate to wipe you off the map like the rest of your buddies,” Misha pressed her combat knife under his chin and tilted his head up. 

 

“ _ Is that clear?”  _

 

He backed away from her blade and nodded profusely. “Good.” 

 

Mikhail grasped Misha’s hand suddenly, bringing it to his lips to kiss. 

 

_ “You did well, Misha. I’m proud of you, father would be too.”  _

 

_ So that’s that, huh? The Volkovs were back to their Nazi-hunting roots, only Misha spared one’s life, maybe she would regret it, but she wasn't wrong when she spared people. Almost two years had passed since she’d woken up in that field with a wounded leg.  _

 

_ Damn, time does fly.  _

 

_ Misha made it her personal mission to take down all the fash scum in her path with the help of her friends and brother.  _

 

_ Mikhail was no different, he followed her every move and word. Sveta covered their tracks and Scarlett nursed their wounds when they’d come back to her covered in blood.  _

 

_ “The usual? Sit down.”  _

 

_ Before they knew it, people noticed a difference in the city thanks to the Volkovs. But with their great change, made them targets.  _

 

_ It was well known they were hiding in the city, hell, even Klaus knew.  _

 

_ They wanted him to know, they wanted him to relish in fear, maybe then he’d show his face to them.  _

 

_ But no, he didn’t. He had other plans.  _

 

_ Capture in party, hunters, drawing them, forcing them to come out, ah yes.  _

 

“Dearest people of Warsaw…” The radio began. 

 

Misha knew that voice anywhere. 

  
  


“Mikhail, the radio!” 

 

“ **_Dearest citizens, I long to see you all. There is someone out there, a communist who is invading us, killing our people._ **

 

**_I want this person to come out, I want them to confess what they’d done and know that we will find you. If you do not come to us, we will take your people and hang them in the streets. No matter where you go, we will have eyes on you. We will take your friends and burn them until you come out.” He paused with a light chuckle._ **

 

**_“Do not worry, my precious people, soon the scum will be burned with the gypsies and inferior breeds.”_ **

 

How chilling. 

 

_ Now into the autumn months, life was brutal for all.  _

 

_ But for once, the Americans had room to complain. _

 

_ Angela, Scarlett, Nikolay, and Nika were all captured in the night.  _

 

_ When the Volkovs woke up, notes were left on their bedsides.  _

 

**_“We have your friends. You have limited time to save them.”_ **

 

Misha screamed at the top of her lungs, which caused Mikhail to come to her bedside. 

 

She was ripping at her bed sheets, destroying the breakable items around her, blood pumping hard through her veins. She was shaking, furious, and only seeing red. 

 

“ _ I swear I am going to burn him alive! How dare he take my friends, how dare he come into this home, how dare he, how dare he!”  _

 

_  
_ _ Misha collapsed to her knees, gripping the floor. Her whole world was burning like a wildfire, she could not stop it.  _

 

_ “Why didn’t I keep them safe? I failed them all, I can’t let them die. He should have captured ME. ME. IM THE ONE HE WANTS.”  _

 

_ Just as Misha wailed, her friends were waking up.  _

 

_ Scarlett had her back pressed against Angel’s with ropes tied around them tightly. Nika and Nikola tied the same.  _

 

_ The room was dark, cold, and the floor was made of steel.  _

 

“Oh! You’re awake, good to see,” Klaus chimed in, flicking on the light. “My name is Klaus, it’s a pleasure to meet the friends of the famous Volkovs.” 

 

_ “Shut your mouth, cyka! Let us go!” Nika gritted, tugging at her ropes.  _

 

_ “My dear, my dear. Calm your nerves and-”  _

 

_ “NET! What the hell do you want, huh? Too cowardly to fight the Volkovs yourself? I know them, you couldn’t last a second. You’re a coward! Hiding behind the bourgeoisie bastards!” Nika hissed, kicking him away as he walked to her.  _

 

_ He crouched to her and she spat in his face.  _

  
  


“Is this any way to represent your country?” He said with a laugh, finding her anger to be amusing. 

 

“Americans, perhaps you will have better manners than our Ruskie friend?” 

 

Angel was most vulnerable, the baby after all. “You, what do they call you?” He said to her, crouching before her. 

 

“...Angel,” she whispered, not looking up at him. 

 

“Angel… Angel. Let me explain why you’re here; you are friends of the most wanted people in Warsaw: Misha and Mikhail Volkov, Soviet criminals. None of you spoke up… so now, we must draw them in so they will show themselves to all to see.” 

 

Scarlett seethed. “We told no one because they did the right thing,” The woman spoke up confidently. “And who might you be?” 

 

“ _ Scarlett Rose,  _ you should see what I do to your kind back in my home country.” 

 

Klaus smiled and lit a cigarette, tapping the ashes on Scarlett’s cheeks. She groaned and shut her eyes tightly. “You are a long way from home, liebling.” 

 

“I want you all to say a message for your Ruskie friends.” 

 

He left the room for a moment to grab his videocam. 

  
  
  


_ Rolling!  _

 

“One at a time now…” 

 

He did Nika first. 

 

“MISHA! MIKHAIL! I don’t know where we are but, oh my god, he is INSANE! His Nazi gangs are after you, leave Warsaw and don’t ever come back. We will make it out of here!” 

 

Scarlett and Angela were in the frame together. “Burn in hell, you Nazi scum! Mickey, Mickey, please, please be careful! Jesus Christ, whatever you do, DON’T give in!” Angela wailed with tears running down her cheeks, she was stricken when genuine fear and worry. 

 

“ _ I ain’t got nothing to say to them, but a whole lot to say to you. Whatever information you want, you’re not getting it. I’m not betraying them like that. Hey, Ruskies, I believe in you.”  _

 

And the clip was taken and shot, to be plastered where everyone could see. 

  
  


_ Psychological warfare.  _

 

_ A wicked smile was on his face and his true colors were pouring. “If they leave you for dead, are they really heroes? Leaving their friends behind to save their own skins? Mhm.”  _

 

_ Klaus stepped on the ashes and smiled at the group.  _

 

None of them thought the Volkovs would leave them, but Klaus did scare them with the thought. 

 

“Heute Deutschland, morgen die Welt!” he recited happily. 

 

“You know what that means, ja? Today Germany, tomorrow the world…”

 

Not if the Volkovs had anything to say about it. Even if times were tough, they were tougher. 

 

They’d known defeat, victory, and total deflation. But that didn’t stop the revolution from running in their bloodline. 

 

**_“A true revolutionary is not that demonstrates value in the period of the victorious uprising, but who knows how to fight not only at the time of the victorious advance but also at the retreat of the revolution; that demonstrates value in the period of the defeat of the proletariat, which does not lose the head, which does not abandon the road when the revolution suffers a defeat and the enemy records successes; which is not dominated by panic, or falls into despair in the retreat of the revolution period.”  J. V. STALIN_ **


	14. The Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH + A LOT OF BLOOD AND VIOLENCE

The captives were exhausted, their mouths drier than the Arabian desert. Scarlett struggled to lift her head, her eyes were met by Klaus’s. He only smiled and touched her cheek.

 

“ Sleep deprivation, the best form of interrogation.” He spoke gently.

Her eyes were glassy and drained, her face was empty and her angelic voice was dry and strained. She reached to squeeze Angela’s hand, her skin dry and cracked. “Angel, stay with me.” She urged, choking back tears. She felt her hand squeeze hers and she was so happy about this, she was praying for salvation.

“What do you want to know?” Scarlett asked weakly, resting her head on Angel’s shoulders. “I want to know where the Volkovs are headed, I know they won’t be on Poland much longer,” he began.

 

“I want them to come to me, you all are just pawns. Bait. Once they come to me, I will release you if you are cooperative.”

“Net! You’ll have to pry my teeth out before I betray my comrades!” Dominika growled, pulling her ropes. Nikolay was still passed out, thankfully.

 

The Nazi captain smiled. “I’ll remember that, how many teeth will you lose before you break?”

“No! Don’t do that, don’t hurt her.” Scarlett tried to calm the situation… “don’t hurt anyone, please.”

“Tell me, Scarlett, you’ve spent time with the Volkovs and their pack of rabid dogs, what are their plans? They’ve already taken back many trucks harboring Jews to bring to Grady.”

She knew their plans, yes.

Their goal was to meet up with the other Union soldiers in Poland to take down the Stalag.

She didn’t reply.

“No? This will be so much easier if you just tell me.”

Scarlett shut her eyes tightly and prepared for the worst.

Klaus grabbed her chin and moved her lower lip down to reveal a row of pretty white teeth. “Wouldn’t it be a shame if you lost these?”

 

That damn monster.

“You know, I used to be like you, dear girl. Sympathetic towards Soviets, inferior races, like the Jews. Until I saw the light of Adolf and his words. I… was lost before then. I wasn’t putting Germany first, I cared little about this great nation of ours until I saw the disgusting, filthy fleas taking over us. A Jew is a man just as a flea is an animal.”

Scarlett found he was no different than the inbred hicks back in her homeland. “ _They are people.”_

 

“And there lies your issue, my dear girl. You see them as… something more.”

 

Scarlett shook her head. He walked around them, Nika kicking at his heels. “Get the hell away from me. If you want information, don’t ask the Americans. You have no place.”

 

“Tsk…”

 

Klaus walked around them, his hands pressed together as he hummed the German anthem. Suddenly, he gave a swift kick to Nika’s stomach and she choked on her breath, the sudden force knocking the wind out of her. “Silence.” He whispered, continuing to pace them.

He was dark, cruel. He looked at them like they were cattle and he saw the sleepiness on their faces. “We can be here all day. _You are going to tell me all you know.”_

 

“In your dreams, you inbred hick! May God CURSE Germany with your vile Nazi hoards! Burn in hell!” Scarlett growled, tugging at the ropes that bound her.

Klaus chuckled. “Fine. Let’s try something new.”

Klaus dragged Scarlett by the hair, Angela forced to follow. He untied the ropes around her abdomen, releasing her from Angel. Sadly, Angel’s wrists were bound still.

 

He threw her in a chair stained in blood and saliva. Klaus strapped her ankles to the legs of the chair, she put up quite the fight, kicking her legs and squirming about.

 

But her fight was futile because, in the end, all four of her limbs were bound, her wrists strapped with leather and iron. Angela was wailing, screaming and crying, fighting the ropes so hard. “Hot irons do hurt terribly bad,” he joked, pulling a rod of iron out of the fireplace. Scarlett’s eyes were filled with fear as the red-hot metal inched closer to her skin. Nika, the oldest in the group was rubbing her wrists raw trying to escape. “NO! DON’T TOUCH HER!” Nika shouted at the top of her lungs. The warmth of the iron was enough to make Roza whimper and it hadn’t even touched her.

She pinched her eyes tightly and felt the rod touch her skin, her skin burning and sizzling, smoke filling the air around her. She was screaming, throwing her head back as her nerves were burnt. “Ohhhh my god, stop, stop!” She cried out, tears filling her eyes as he moved it to a different part of her arm. When he removed it, it took a chunk of her flesh with it.

“Tell me what you know.”

The American woman breathed heavily, her entire body shaking. “Unless you want more? Or I’ll start branding your friends. I think a swastika would look good branded on her chest? A Soviet branded by a Nazi? How lovely.”

“I’ll cut the damn thing off, I swear to god I’ll cut it off!” Nika meant her words.

Klaus was really wanting to brand her with a swastika now.

He threw the iron back in the flame and watched as Roza lowered her head. She was crying softly, not from the pain but from the fact she may give in to pain and betray her friends. She could only handle so much.

 

Scarlett sniffled and took a sharp inhale, regaining herself, preparing for the next batch of pain. He walked around Roza, faint chuckles escaping his lips. “All you have to do is say what you know.”

 

“And I won’t.”

 

So stubborn.

 

“Then let us ask Angel, hm? Will you quit being selfish to save your own kin?”

 

Angela’s eyes darted around the room, she scooted away from him the best she could, tears running down her face. “Angel! No! Ahg, don’t touch her you pig! Leave her out of this, she’d just a child!”

 

Scarlett was seeing red. She was fighting her restraints so much her wrists were turning raw. She pulled and pulled, blood would make it a lot easier to slip out of. Klaus scooped Angel into his arms like a feather and she fought hard until he threw her into the chair in front of Scarlett, restraining her wrists and feet.

 

She flipped her hair out of her face and revealed a tear stained face and neck. Scarlett was able to rip one bloody hand from her restraint, fiddling with the other one. Klaus was quick to slam her wrist down, making her groan out in pain. Scarlett was a different person and she no longer knew kindness or gentleness; all she knew she had to get the hell out of there with her friends.

 

“What do you know, Angel? You seem to be good friends with Mikhail, my men have been watching you for weeks, you care about him, right? And he cares about you, so very much. I understand you want to keep him safe…”

 

“Now you need to keep yourself safe and tell me all you know.”

 

Klaus was so calm with his words, it was chilling. “Hmmm?”

 

He leaned down to her face and she pinched her eyes shut, blocking him out. “Fine…”

 

Again, he pulled the hot iron rod from the flames and hovered it above her skin. She opened her eyes and held back whimpers of sheer fear.

Scarlett growled under her breath and her nostrils flared like a war horse in battle.

 

_That was her baby._

_That was her angel._

_That was her best friend._

He pressed it onto Angel’s skin and she let out a scream at the top of her lungs, her tendons aching from all the pressure. He was enjoying this, to him, it was merciful to give them a chance. She locked her eyes with Scarlett’s and she smiled through the pain. “I’m sorry, Rose.”

She had nothing to apologize for but she could not hold back the words. Angel looked up at Klaus with a tear-stained face and red eyes, her entire body shaking. “ _Scarlett, I’m sorry I can’t be strong.”_ Angela took a heavy inhale and Klaus stared her down like she was prey and he was the hungry wolf, though his eyes were soft and patient.

 

“They are planning an attack on your prison, I do not know when but this is what I know.” She was broken about spilling the beans, she had her reasons.

“Danke, danke, my dear girl. You are smart, unlike the rest of your lot. You’ve done well, but this is not news to me; I had a feeling they were going to. But do not fret, they will return to their cells sooner or later.”

 

“Okay, you have what you want, don’t hurt my friends!” She pleaded, her tears slowing down.

 

“Oh, my dear! Just as I praised your intelligence! I didn’t want just that. I want them _._ But you, Angel, have been a grand help, you know power when you see it.”

The others were shocked, but they didn’t blame her. Her tears started falling again because she knew she screwed up.

 

“Stop your tears, child. Why do you cry, hm?” Klaus said gently, tilting her head up with his index finger. His averted his eyes from her and glanced at Nika, who was lightly singing a war song to calm her nerves. “You, Soviet Falcon, they call you?” he called, watching her eyes dart open. “That’s what they call us, those who fly above the fascist hoards” she hissed deeply, tugging at her ropes even more.

 

“What is a falcon with no eyes?” he asked with a smile.

Was he really thinking of removing her most valuable asset as a soldier? Klaus patted Angel’s head and walked over to Nika, feeling her dagger-like eyes stab him in the chest. “What use are your wings if you can not see your direction, hm?”

Klaus was sick.

Twisted.

“What is a dog without teeth or his bourgeoisie masters holding a tight leash?” Nika retorted with little effort. “And what is a Nazi without power? _A flea. Something to be crushed.”_

 

Dominika laughed in his face, maybe she was resigning herself to a painful death. “Take my eyes, my heart, my life, no matter. But you’ll never take the redness in my blood, you won’t take the _redness_ from my heart, and you certainly won't take it from my mind. _Take whatever the hell you want, Nazi. My life has been given to those around me and I’ll die if I need to, that’s what I do; I’m a soldier. Something you won’t understand. You are not on the front lines, you should be lucky I’ve never spotted you in my planes…”_ Nika paused and felt her heart thumping so hard it would explode from her chest.

 

“Because if I ever saw you on the field, I’d shoot you down like the deranged beast you are.”

Klaus only perked his brows at her comments. “Well, how lovely to hear, ruskie. You Soviets do have fire in your blood, I will give you that, but your words don’t frighten me when I stand above you.”

 

 _How arrogant he was._  Klaus walked around the enraged woman and she watched him with eagle eyes, his heavy stomping of boots making her tense up as he walked behind her. “You talk a lot, Falcon, should I cut out that tongue?”

 _“Take. What. You. Want. Nazi.”_ Nika didn’t care anymore.

She knew that if she riled him up with anger, he wouldn’t hurt the others.

 

**_It was never about herself. She never put herself. Nika was so selfless. She was the doormat so those around her could walk on the soft ground. Right now, her friends were her top priority._ **

 

**_Dominika would laugh in the face of death and spit in the eyes of life, she wasn’t pulling at straws to live but she wasn’t begging to die either. She was… okay with the fact that she gave her life for the cause._ **

 

**_She didn’t fear death or pain, she did not fear much of anything. Her fears were based on herself._ **

 

**_She knew she couldn’t fight forever and that scared her the most. She knew she couldn’t fly planes forever, she knew she couldn’t hold a rifle forever, she knew damn well she couldn’t keep holding on in times like this._ **

 

Now all she wanted was to hug and kiss Mikhail, her blonde superman with pretty blue eyes. She thought she let him go those years ago, but she didn’t. She had him _ripped_ from her warm embrace by the hands of war. He was stolen from her.

 

They held onto each other so tight but the war made them fight each other, it made them angry at each other.

 

War ruined the both of them.

 

Before the war, Dominika was sweet and playful, something Mikhail had drawn out in her. When they first met, she was a normal citizen who watched him march away, she held the rose he’d grown for her in the dead of winter. ‘ **_Do you have any idea how hard it is to grow a rose in the middle of a Russian winter?’_ ** he would tell his friends who then told her his plans.

 

“You grew this for… me?” she would ask slowly, her English still rather poor, but he found it really sweet and he helped her along the way. “I did. You know, it was something… pretty in all this bloodshed, you know? And that’s how I see you… you give me a reason to come home.”

 

He would leave for months on end, come back bruised and beaten but he still wore that cocky smile and charming dimples. **_“NO ONE IS HOLDING A GUN TO YOUR HEAD AND TELLING YOU TO FIGHT, MIKHAIL!”_ ** She would scream at him with tears running down her face and a heavy heart.

 

“ **_If only you knew how many revolvers were held to my head that forced me to fight. Do you think I want this? Do you think I want to fight? Do you think I want to leave you, my love?”_ **

  


But like everything else, they healed, their wounds would be ripped open again and again. Nika would leave for a bit but would come back to him and kiss him, telling him how sorry she was.

 

She loved him.

More than he would ever know, maybe even more than he loved her, no one really knew.

But she harbored so much love for that man and he did the same for her, it made them ruthless in battle because they were fighting for each other.

 

Sometimes she would drop him off as an airdrop and she’d watch him parachute down and she’d be there to pick him up with a latter thrown down. Once she could reach down to grab his hand, she would pull him up and kiss him if the conflict was low. Other times, she’d race out of the area, landing in a safe place to rest. Then she would hold him and tell him how happy she was to see him.

 

But as she felt that sizzling on her chest, she didn’t scream but she thought of Mikhail the whole time. Nika was silent but her tendons bulged from her wrists and the backs of her hands.

 

He pressed the Swastika brand deeper into her skin and she yelped when it was ripped from her skin. Nika looked down at her burned chest, seeing a decently sized symbol on the right side of her chest. Nika was revolted, the 5-inch brand was enough to make her stomach turn. “Beautiful.”

“Nika…” Angela whispered softly, seeing the distraught look deep within her eyes. She was dead silent, only her eyes were screaming. Her skin was hot and the pain died down quickly.

 

_I swear to god I’ll cut it out of my flesh and plaster it on your walls._

 

“Why don’t we show the people what is happening?”

 

The words were chilling for them all. Nika saw the flash and she was like a deer in the headlights.

“I’ll leave you all to your own devices.” Klaus smiled and stared at Nika for a few extra seconds.

 

When he left, Angel leaned down to bite at her leather straps, pulling one of them free. Her red hair touched the ground as it had gotten so long. She tugged at it hard with her front teeth, the bitter taste of blood staining her mouth. When her wrist was free, she worked at the one on her other hands and feet.

 

“Hold on, Scar.”

She raced over to Scar and untied her. Both women went to help their friends and Nika was still silent, but she was eager in her own way. “I’m going to kill him,” Nika muttered as they untied her. “Come on, we need to get out of here,” Scarlett urged, pulling Dominika up tenderly by her wrists.

 

“No way out.” Angela retorted, seeing only one exist.

 

“There’s a window in the door,” Nika said with a smirk. “Hey, Roza, give me your jacket.” Quickly, the American stripped off her nurse jacket and tossed it to the pilot.

She wrapped it around her arm and began to bust at the corners of the windows.

 

One problem.   


They were bulletproof.

 

Nika began to shout cruel curses under her breath. Her heart was beating so fast she was getting light headed with all the stress and tension. “ _I’m going to take out every single one of his men.”_

 

They were trapped and they were getting desperate, all burned and beaten, they had to stick together to make it out alive. Angela looked around the room for a blunt object. It looked like a torture room, bloodies knives and bats stained with blood and possible brain matter. Flimsy wood and metals were scattered around, anything would do better than her own arms. Dominika stopped with her heavy frustration, kicking the door out of anger.

 

“Dom, what if he comes back?” Angela asked, already terrified of the thought. “There are weapons in here, not sharp ones, but it will do.”

The devilish captain unlocked the door and saw everything was in a frenzy. His dark eyes scanned the room and everyone seemed to pause. “What has happened here? Have my dogs gotten loose?” He pulled out his pistol and pointed it at Nikolay’s head, which he was still passed out.

“I want everyone to get in their places before I spray the room with his brain matter. Now. On the wall.”

 

None had a choice. Klaus was enjoying this, seeing the fear-stricken in their faces, in their hearts.

He pressed the barrel on his head and juggled the trigger. “Such selfish people you are, risking your comrade’s life for a grand escape? Pathetic.”

 

“Guards, come in and restrain the woman with the chest brand.”

 

Three guards stormed the room and went to grab Nika, but of course, her friends jumped to her aid, only to have guns pointed in their faces when they pushed them away. “Haha! What a sight, the brave Americans sticking up for the enemy… What happened to the Reds and Capitalist Pigs being deadly rivals?” he seemed to mock with a chuckle, his eyes brightening from all the excitement. Nika kicked, screamed, and cursed loudly, her voice was mixed with tears and anger. Klaus watched as they held her down on the ground, her body tiring out slowly but surely.

 

“What is a falcon without eyes?” he asked again, this time, his voice was drawn out, deep, and utterly terrifying. Klaus straddled the woman and grabbed her face with his strong, scarred hands and made her look at him as he smiled. Klaus relished in the moment, putting all his weight on her body to tire her out. One guard held her hands down and the other only kept the others in line, making sure they didn’t try and save their friend.

Nika spat in his face and stared back at him with fire in her eyes, boldness dripping down her entire being.

 

“A falcon without eyes is rendered useless, isn’t that right, my dear?”

 

Before she could respond, he started digging into her eye socket a spoon and soon everything started closing in around her, the seemingly tons of pressure building on the sides of her eye and he dig it under the ball with a wicked grin on his face. He gripped her face in place and took great joy in seeing the blood forming under her eye as he butchered her. Even if her hands weren’t held down by one of his men, he was much too strong to be kicked off. He was a monster. Klaus saw the life drain from that eye and her vision went blurry, to black… Now, it was nothing. She thought she was dreaming for a split second, the horrible pain disorienting her so badly, the faces around her began to spin. Her head was pounding it and it killed her to see his smile on his face when he just ripped her most valuable assets from her. The warmth of her own blood running down her face and into her ear was a pleasant change from the chilly nights of Warsaw. How badly she wanted to feel the blood on her own hands just to know this really happened.  He hated to leave her, but for all the wrong reasons. He ran his palm over her face and dragged the blood over her as her tears mixed with the warm blood. Klaus looked down at his own hands and only smirked. He left the comfortable seat on her abdomen and shook his hands off, faint droplets staining the ground.

 

“ **_Ahhh! One less Falcon will fly over this great nation of ours!”_ ** Nika rolled over on her stomach and felt like she was going to be sick, everything was flooding her. “Ahh, fantastic, fantastic! What pretty brown eyes you have, Soviet. Be grateful I only took one of them.”

He did this to scare the others.

 

“I suggest you lot behave unless you want to end up like your friend.”  When they left the room, the raced to her side and both nurses knew what they had to do. Scarlett quickly removed her top layer shirt, revealing a plain white tank top underneath. “Easy, easy,” Scarlett said through her tears. Nika wasn’t sure if she was still crying or it was still blood raining down. “Stay calm, Dom.”

 

She pressed her shirt into the wound and blood filled the fabric almost instantly. “Listen, Dom, you’re going to feel very light-headed, your blood pressure has dropped and you’re probably going to pass out. Stay calm and let us help you.”

 

Scarlett talked her through the feelings that were racing all over he body, her soft voice was slowly calming her down. “Roza...I…”

 

“Shhh, don’t talk, don’t talk. Focus on my voice and look at me.” Scarlett’s shirt was soaked and she knew Nika would end up dying of blood loss if they didn’t stop the bleeding. “Angel, your shirt.”

 

She used the fresh shirt and lightly stuffed the wound with the fabric and patted her back. Nika looked over at the eyeball rolling around on the floor and this made her sick. “We should have never come to Warsaw.”

Angel looked around the room for supplies for a makeshift bandage. She ripped the bottom of her own undershirt and stretched it out to make it a bandage around her eye. “Hey, Nika, I’m gonna wrap your eye, just hold still and you’ll be okay.”

Dominika nodded slowly and glanced over at her with a faint smile.

 

“Bolshoe spasibo, my friend.”

“Good girl, Angel,” Scarlett praised her while holding the cloth on the wound.

She held Nika’s head close to her chest and ran her fingers through her hair. “Shhh, I’ve got you, I won’t let them hurt you anymore, sweetheart.”

Dominika sniffled and pulled her shirt down to see the brand on her skin. “Cut it off,” she said suddenly.

 

“W-what?” Scarlett asked, making sure she heard her right the first time. “Cut. The. Brand. Off. Me.”

 

“Domi, no, I can’t do that to you, I don’t even have a sharp knife… I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I’m… sure Mikhail will do it for you.”

 

“If we get out of here,” Nika muttered, her head dropping.

Before she knew it, she was passed out in Roza’s arms as Angel wrapped her head. “Dear God, wherein the seven hells is wrong with that man?” Scarlett whispered, resting Nika’s head on her lap. “Don’t know, Scarlett but I’m scared.”

“Don’t be scared, Angel. I’m here and you know damn well I’ll put up one hell of a fight to keep you safe.” Scarlett smiled warmly, her eyes no longer running with tears or redness, her face was like sunshine struggling to shine through the storm clouds. It was obvious she wanted to cry more, but she knew her tears wouldn’t do anything to keep them safe.

 

Klaus had gone back to his office and slouched in his chair, propping his feet up on his desk.

“Father?” Nora chimed in softly, her footsteps ringing against the metal floors of the bunker.

“Nora, my dear! Come, come, what brings you?”

“It has been brought to my attention the Volkovs have taken direct action against us… They seemed to have slaughtered everyone in our training facility… Everyone is dead and they left a message for you.”

Nora pulled the photograph from her breast pocket and cringed to look at it again. Klaus held out his hand and felt his whole body fill with rage when he read the letters carved into the wall.

 

**“THE ONLY GOOD NAZI IN A DEAD ONE. FEAR THE REDS.”**

Right under the text was an exed out swastika and blood spatters all over the walls and floor.

They stormed the building with no guns, only their combat knives, and nightly quiet footsteps and pitch-perfect coordination. And of course, Svetlana on their side. She took care of all their locks doors and rooftop snipers, giving them signals it was safe to come out in the shadows. They both ended up soaked in German blood. Their knives glided over thirty throats that day and every flag was ripped or burned, nothing was left but the corpses of dead Nazis.

 

“They will pay for these crimes,” Klaus barked. crinkling the papers in his hands. He was enraged, so much he wanted to take out his rage on his new prisoners. “Danke, Nora… This… this has helped. Only we should send our friends an image of what’s happening to their friends. The more damage they do, the closer their comrades are to meeting their death.”

 

The Volkovs were on the run the entire time, dodging the police at every turn. Sveta was their cover and she knew what they were doing, she knew their plan of destruction, havoc, and chaos. But to them, it was a noble deed to disrupt the fascist city of Warsaw.

 

They’d gotten help from their kiddo, Roman, attempting to start an uprising with his Jewish comrades.

It was small, yes, but it gave people a shining hope in the dark clouds above them, a shield against the fascist bullets raining down upon them.  Roman was their enthusiastic leader, showing clear and undying support for the Red Army and their noble deeds all over Europe.

His group was small but mighty, they did everything in their power to help the locals and walk with those who were too fearful to even show their faces.

 

But Roman… Roman was downright fearless. He spat in the faces of Nazi soldiers in the streets and cursed them out in his native tongue. He made it very obvious he didn’t want them in his Poland.

His precious Warsaw, his mother Poland.

 

But with Roman and his raging attitude, he had to have someone do the dirty work.

 

As in the slaughter.

 

So who else would he contact other than the Slazaks?

 

 _Krystina and her twin brother Krystian._ Certified Nazi hunters, freedom fighters, and red-blooded communists.

 

At age 25, they spent 2 years living in a concentration camp, they were freed by the Allies. When their feet hit the free soil, they knew joining the Polish military would be a death wish. So they formed their own militia and rallied for people to join up.

 

And it worked.

 

Well.

 

So then was formed the **_Ashkenazi Militia of Warsaw_**. A group of Jewish and Romani people who were _fed up_ with the iron hands hovering above them.

 

Krystina was walking with her brother, planning to meet up with Roman and his friends for a **special** gift for the guards tormenting the locals. “Mikhail, I want you to meet the Slazaks.”

 

Mikhail looked up at the twins and was pleased to see their commie patches plastered on their arms. “Meet the Slazaks… this is Krystina.” She moved her eyes to meet the blonde Russian man, looking him up and down. “Cheshch,” she said flatly. Mikhail didn’t know a stip of Polish so he looked to Roman for help.

 

“She said hello… she is rather… how do you say? Short.” Mikhail nodded and dropped his arms to his side, reading her body language like a book. She had the sharpest eyes he had ever seen and her presence was strong and demanding; everyone would know she’s in the room.

“This is Lieutenant Mikhail Volkov of the Union, you two should get along, you’ve been through similar… things.”

 

“Porucznik? Mhmm. An honor it is to meet you, Mikhail. Far from home, no?” She asked, resting her barbed wire wrapped baseball bat over her shoulder, shifting her weight from each boot.

 

“Da. Moscow is my hometown… it has been too many days since I have been in my own home.”

 

“We’re right in my home city: Warsaw. Isn’t she pretty? Even prettier without the _Nazi fucks_ crawling around like scared roaches. Tell me, Ruskie, what brings you?”

“War brings me, Krystina. I was captured in Minsk and imprisoned for a year in Stalag 324.”

 

“324? I feel bad for you, comrade. None of my men made it out alive. They’re all dead. I saw their faces. Your men liberated the camp I was back in… 1940. Even cut off the number they tattoos on me,” she said with a smirk.

 

She rolled up her sleeve to reveal the scar on her forearm, covered in tattoos in Polish and Russian. “You know the Germans call people like you can me **_rassisch minderwertig?_ ** Racially inferior. Isn’t that funny? Us Slavs can actually stand the winters, I can’t wait to drive them out of here. Krystian, you’ve been quiet. Speak up.”

 

Her brother was on the quiet side but he meant nothing by it.

 

“Privet Krystian. You both look like capable people. An honor to meet you.” Mikhail placed his right fist over his chest and lowered his head to him. “Head up, Ruskie,” he said with a smile.

“Listen, I know where your friends are being held and we are going to help you get them, okay? Klaus has them in the… how do you say in English… in his ‘station,’ the big building you see in the town square. On the lowest floor resides his bunker, where they are held. The only issue is… getting to it. Getting inside is a death with if you aren’t careful.” Krystin said, hoping he made sense.

 

“There should be an underground passage, he uses it to escape the city when riots get too scary for him. Such a coward… But we will do this for the man who helped free us from his camp. Your will is our command.”

 

As they planned the great attack, things only got worse for the others. Dominika was weak, dreary and was barely able to speak to her friends.

Angela seemed to get the bulk of the mistreatment by the cruel hand of Klaus.

 

“You useless girl!” he shouted at her, pushing her slender frame into the wall. “How many times must I say it, liebling? You can not save your little lot of friends! Dogs! All of them!”

 

Angela wiped her tears and struggled to get to her feet, her dehydrated body struggling too hard to support her. “Why…? Just let them go, please… they don’t deserve this. Dom didn’t deserve what you did…” Angel struggled, falling to her knees. “You are weak, my Angel. Weak. Pathetic. If you want to save your friends, scream for help. Cry for it. Amuse me.”

 

Scarlett was pounding on the door, screaming and frantic.

 

“Open the damn door!! Open the bloody door! Touch her and I swear to God I’ll kill you, German!” Rosa still pounded on the door, the heavy iron making the floors shake. “Oh, then cry for your Scarlett.”

 

“You’re sick.”

“Is there a cure?”

“A bullet in your head would do the trick.” Angel heaved, spitting the blood from her mouth. She wiped her mouth and tried again to get on her feet. Klaus stood above her, unimpressed with her attempts.

 

“You would serve well to be tested with mustard gas. Would you like that?”

 

Scarlett heard these words and rattled at the heavy iron twister on the door, trying her hardest to open it, not knowing it was under tons of pressure.

 

The compact weapon was resting in his jacket, the pin ready to be pulled at any waking moment, and by god, he was so ready. “You’re a nurse, you know what it does to people. Even in small doses…” he murmured quietly, his German accent somehow soothing to the ear. “You know very well what it does… you don’t even have a gas mask, now do you? But there’s one in this room, hidden, you see.”

 

Klaus gave her a smile and began to walk around her like a stalking predator. Scarlett could see him in the window of the door, the very sight of his boots enough to make her sick. “There’s no use, Roza. he knows you’re watching. Look away. Trust me.” Dominiak said weakly, her back on the wall. Her eye was still wrapped and she was still getting used to the lack of… vision.

“I can’t believe this,” Roza whispered to herself, not finding it within herself to cry.

The room was dead. Quiet. Lonesome.

 

Not a strip of hope was in their hearts, their eyes were dead and cold, everything was taken from them and they haven't seen the sunlight in days. Klaus smiled at her kindly, tugging at the pin.

 

“Your friends aren’t coming to save you, my dear,” he said gently, running his fingers over her hair.

 

“I hope you find that mask.”

 

He started to walk out the door and he pulled the pin out and threw it behind him, shutting it behind him.

 

Angela ducked for cover, behind a shelf, and pulled her shirt over her mouth and pinched her eyes as tight as possible.

 

Scarlett could see her and the room, free of the toxic gas.

 

“ _That fucking liar.”_ Scarlett cursed, slamming her fist on the door.

 

“Angel, it’s clear. He was messing with you.” he breathed, resting her head on the glass. “Jesus H. Christ. I’m sick of this snot-nosed little Nazi punk,” Rosa hissed, balling her fist up.

 

Angela looked around the room and saw the grenade was nothing but a dud. Klaus was laughing in the other room and she could hear him plain as day. “Ohh, my Angel, what a sight to behold,” Klaus laughed as he walked back to see her. He crouched in front of her and tilted his head like a disappointed father.

To his surprise, she slapped him as hard as she could, the sound could be heard in all the distant rooms. His head turned sharply and he rubbed the mark with a straight face. “Oh, pitiful indeed. Of course, the animals cannot use their words but they must use their paws to express.” he chuckled, looking down at her with dead eyes.

 

He was lifeless but so terrifying. “But what is a pup without claws? Should we rip those fingernails out? Or cut that wicked tongue out?” he asked, grabbing her by the chin. She put up quite the fight, thrashing about and spitting in his face. “Get your hands off me!” Angel shouted, rolling away from him.

 

She kicked the shelf over in a moment of frustration and vulnerability, her hands shaking from the adrenaline rushing through her head.    **_“Don’t touch me, don’t come near me!”_ ** her voice wasn’t shaking anymore and Angel finally learned what it meant to be strong.

 

All her life she wasn’t strong, she wasn’t brave, she wasn’t a hero.

She took her mother’s advice and she needed it more than ever.

 

_Make ‘em bleed, baby. Make them regret ever crossing you. Don’t stop until they’ve got blood on ‘em._

 

She had every intention of making him bleed.

Angel was throwing things at him, he was simply making his way closer to her, ducking under her thrown objects. “Make them bleed,” she whispered to herself.

 

_Don’t stop until they’ve got blood on them._

_Make them regret crossing you._

 

She busted a glass bottle on the table and threw the shards at him, a thick chunk of the bottle slashing his cheek. He found this all so very funny. All she had was a shard of glass that was cutting her hand deeply the tighter she held it.

Her fingers were literally dripping blood, droplets littered the floor and she was prepared to scuffle with him. She knew he had a gun and that’s what she wanted, even if meant getting shot herself. “Come near me, I swear to God you’ll get slashed.”

 

Klaus shook his head. “You love making things so hard on yourself, don’t you? Open wounds on your hands and I’ve still got another gas grenade, only this time it might just kill you. What do you say? Drop your weapon and I won’t throw it.”

 

“ _Hell no. I’m not taking orders from a kraut.”_

“As you wish.”

 

He pulled another from his jacket and pulled the pin, making a quick getaway.

 

The gas began to fill the room, slowly releasing the toxic fumes.

 

“ _No, no, no, no, no.” she began to panic, looking around for that damn mask, even if she found it, her skin would be burned and blistered._

 

_She pulled her shirt over her mouth and nose, holding it tightly as the gas started getting closer to her._

 

_It was silent, or so it seemed._

 

_Maybe if she would have listened._

 

_No. She knew she’d never take orders from a Nazi._

 

_“Angel, keep your mother covered and the minute that gas gets to your eyes, SHUT THEM. You have to get outta there!” Scarlett said through the glass._

_It was getting to be too much and Angel had to hide in the corner, shielding herself from the toxins._

 

Just as Angel tried to escape, the Volkovs and Slazaks were working together to reach the bunker.

 

“Mikhail, you’re strong no? She should be a key on that platform above us, I can’t reach it on my own.”

 

“Understood.”

 

Mikhail lowered himself to his knees to Krystina could stand on his shoulders, the man was strong as an ox.

 

“Got it?” he said before he rose up.

 

“Yes.”

 

She had a clear view of the top of the platform above the door, they stored it all in a strong box. She reached to grab it, her fingers barely touching it. “Closer,” she ordered.

When she got her fingers on it, she pulled it over and shook it, the satisfying sound of a metal key jingling inside.

Misha took the box and helped her off his shoulders. The brief look into Misha’s brown eyes made her pain so visible, the softness of her hands around hers proved she could be gentle if the time called for it. Even Mikhail, the way he rested his hands on her boots to balance her.

 

“They’ve got those _eagle eyes,_ they’ll spot you a mile away if you’ve escaped.” the Polish woman muttered, fiddling with the lock. Misha crouched beside her and gently took the box, smashing it on the ground. The lock busted off and Misha only chuckled.

 

 _“Soviet-style, you’ll learn it if you keep us around, comrade,”_ Misha said with a crooked grin. Krystina unlocked the door and fear began to fill her heart, the last time she was down here… well, she’d rather not remember what happened down there.

“Hey, Krystian, lead the way. You know these walls better than I do.”

The brother slipped into the front and looked at his sister before giving her a quick embrace.

“Follow me, quiet on your feet, and we’ll get your friends out. I promise.”

 

So they followed him into the underground path, the cold, steel walls around them sending shivers down their spines. “Keep in mindthere ares traps. Everywhere down here. If they’re triggered, we are _dead._ Klaus is a cowardly little rat, so… just watch your step.” Krys said as he led the way, stepping over a tripwire.

 

“Misha, can you disable these?” Mikhail asked, just remembering Misha was an expert trap maker.

 

“Sure can. These are child’s play. Go ahead, I’ll clear the path and will meet you. Go.”

 

They all agreed. She began to disable the traps, the razor wire cutting her skin, leaving it stained with her blood. She noticed one was deeper into the wall and she’d have to remove the bolts in the wall to reach it, thank christ for her combat knife, huh?

 

The other’s went ahead, Mikhail still looked behind to see her working away. There were too guards standing in  behind the door, their rifles giving them away.

If it’s one thing Misha taught Mikhail, it would be traps. She told him the ins and outs, how to screw them up and how to make them deadly. He took a deep breath, scanning the steel ground under his boots. Something, something could be used.

 

Sadly, nothing. He’d have to improvise. Heavily.

 

He ushered the twins to him. “Go back to Misha, tell her to bring the wires with her. I’ll handle the men.”

So they did, sneaking back to his sister. Mikhail’s knife was always glued to him and he hated to bring it the dishonor of _throwing it._

 

He threw it at the glass window in the door, cracking it. This alerted the guards, only one was sent to check it out so they didn’t get in trouble for leaving their post.

It was a good thing Mikhail’s hand-to-hand combat skills were stylish _and deadly._

 

_Come on… come over here._

 

Mikhail hid himself behind a thick pipe in the wall and the guard walked right past him, giving him the perfect opportunity to get behind the German, cover his mouth and _use his own knife_ to give him several, swift stabs in the stomach, not letting him go until he was certain he was dead and already rotting in hell.

He lifted his body up and threw him next to the other guard to lure him over. Mikhail was quick on his feet and even quicker on his senses, he waiting behind the same pipe, peering his head around to see the guard. He gave him the same treatment, only this time he put up more of a fight. Having his body slammed on the ground, the German had the wind knocked out of him, looking up at Mikhail with fear stricken eyes. But he didn’t care, he stopped caring long ago.

 

“Wait!” he said.

Mikhail stopped, holding the knife to his throat. He raised his brows. “What say you?”

 

“Y-you’re the Volkov, ja?”

He nodded slowly.

“Coming for your friends, ja?”

Again, he nodded.

“K-Klaus has them… consider them… dead. You’ll never get to them in time.”

Mikhail didn’t have time for this.

He slit his throat and pushed his body away and saw his companions coming for him.

 

“He’s good,” Krystina chuckled to Misha.  

“Don’t tell him that, his ego will _implode.”_

 

“Krystian, lead if you will.”

 

The way there was simple enough, they thought it would be harder. Misha double checked to make sure her handgun was loaded and silenced. “Where would they be held?” Misha asked.

 

“Close to his office, which should be close by… but keep in mind… he has another room. For tortue, Likes to fill it with gas and watch whoever’s in there suffer. He’s just that sick.”

 

Angela might be meeting her tragic fate in that very room. They could hear faint moaning mixed with screams close by and it was unclear on who it was. “Misha,” Krystian began, “take this and for the love of God, don’t take it off.” He handed her a simple gas mask. She didn’t question him, she did the thick, plastic buckles in the back and adjusted to the tight  eye covers.

“Mustard gas often fills this hellhole. Be careful. Find your friends. We will make sure no one follows.”

 

The twins stood side by side, arms with machine guns and bats, it was clear they were ready to give their lives for them. “Bolshoe spasibo, my friends.” Misha patted their shoulders.

“Mikhail, think fast!” The Polish woman tossed him the same mask. _“Raise hell in there.”_

 

_The Volkovs looked at each other, deeply, Mikhail grabbed Misha’s hand and gently placed it on his chest, the warm fabric of his jacket reminding her of the times before. “Come on, let’s go.”_

 

_“Da, lieutenant.”_

 

_Those words._

_Those damn words._

 

It was funny, really, both clad in German gas masks while about to start a slaughter if need be.

 

_They went into the next door and saw two German soldiers, outside the door, like usual, their rifles giving them away. They looked at each other and then at the door. “Show me what you’ve got, little sister.”_

_She nodded confidently._

 

_She positioned  herself by the door and reached into her pocket and reveal the thin razor wire. The ends were dulled and could be held against walls with human hands without getting hurt. “Hold the other end and let the magic happen.” Misha whispered to her big brother, seeing the glow in his eyes behind the covers over his eyes._

 

_It was stretched thin, barely visible to the human eye. She reached her boot to the door and tapped it, hearing them open the door to look._

 

_One checked, per usual._

 

_This one was deeply annoyed so he walked into the wire with aggression, his own stupidity slitting his throat. The other checked immediately, seeing the wire. He ducked under and the brief second they looked at each other again, Mikhail dropped the wire and gave the German a stab to the back of the neck, kicking his body off his knife._

 

_When they walked into the room, there was yet another door. This time, no guards._

_Misha peeked into the room and saw her friends. “Hey, hey, Mikhail. Everyone’s in there… but I can’t open the door.”_

 

Misha knocked on the glass, and Scarlett’s face popped into frame. Misha waved to her but Scarlett was confused… Misha undid her mask and lifted it and her face made Scarlett so relieved.

 

“Sweet Jesus, Misha!”

 

Mikhail went into frathe me as well and winked at her, she knew those blue eyes anywhere.

 

“Oh my god, y’all, I-I-I don’t even know what to say. I can’t open this door and let me be honest…”

 

“It’s bad. Domi isn’t good, Angel isn’t good, and Misha’s boy isn’t doing well… I don’t know if we’ll make it outta here.”

 

Nikolay.

Misha’s Nikolay.

Scarlett’s eyes were starting to fill with tears. “Please. I’m begging you, you _need to get out of here. W-we will find a way. Just-”_

 

_“Roza,” Mikhail started._

 

_“I’m not going anywhere until you’re out of there. We’re getting you out of here.”_

 

_“I don’t know if Angel, if Angel will make it. Klaus gassed her and she’s alive, but really, I can’t open the door. I’m so scared, I don’t know what to do.”_

_Scarlett was losing herself in the moment._

_“Don’t give up, malysh. We’ll get you.”_

 

_They started working on the corners of the glass, loosening it up slowly but surely. Scarlett wiped her tears and went to check on Angel._

 

_“Angel, please hold on. Don’t die on me.”_

 

_Klaus stepped into the room and saw the Volkovs trying to get in. “Ahaha! What is this? Misha and Mikhail Volkov being the brave heroes?” He strutted in, grabbing Scar by the hair and holding a gun to her head. “I’ll let you in, but you must behave unless you want her head blown around the room.”_

They stopped in their tracks.

 

“Good dogs behave. If you don’t, your lady will die. Do you agree?”

“Yes, we agree.”

 

Klaus went to open the door for them, pressing the cold end of the gun to her head. “Welcome. Backs to the wall.”

 

They had no choice but to obey.

 

“Long time no see, my friends. Do you understand this is your fault? Your beloved friends will soon wish they were dead because all you do is fight. Fight. Did you stop and think what you were doing to them.”  

Mikhail gritted his teeth.

 

“Ahah, don’t bare those fangs at me.” Klaus chuckled deeply. He traced the handgun over her ear and down her neck.

 

_“While you burned my men, I burned your friends._

_While you slaughtered, I ripped your Falcon’s eyes._

_And while you cheered with victory, your friends cried for mercy.”_

 

“What the hell did you do to my friends, Nazi?!” Misha shouted at the top of her lungs, trying hard to stand her ground and not lunge at his throat. “Oh? Why don’t you go see your Falcon? You may move.”

 

The Volkovs looked at each other.

 

“Go, brother…”

He rushed to see Nika, pulling her on his lap. “Dominika,” he breathed, seeing the makeshift bandage around her eye. “Mikhail,” she whispered softly, bringing her hand to his face.

 

**_“I’m so sorry.”_ **

 

His words fell softly from his lips. He pulled her head up close to him and wrapped his arms tightly around her, wishing he could have protected her. “I’m so sorry, Dominika. I’m so sorry. Forgive me, I’m begging you.” Mikhail grabbed a handful of her hair and buried his face into her.

The air around them was cold and the lieutenant felt weak and vulnerable, something he hated so much.

She undid the buckles on his mask with one hand and pulled it off him, seeing his eyes misty and turning red. His vibrant blue irises were bloodshot and he was fighting back against the force of emotion deep within his soul. He looked down at her and she looked up at him, the warmth of his body warming her cold one.

 

He was so loyal to her.

He would follow her to the ends of the earth.

He noticed the burns on her chest but he could not make out the wound. Tenderly, he pulled the fabric of her button up shirt down and saw the swastika brand. His heart sank to his feet and he was filled with a fury so hellish, nothing could hold him back. “I want you to be the one to cut it off me.”

 

He nodded and looked back at Misha.

 

“How sweet, our love birds unite at least.” Klaus joked, disliking the silence in the room. Misha’s fingers were wrapped around the trigger of her rifle, ready to shoot him down, it felt like she was taking his orders, but she only wanted to save Scarlett’s life.

 

“What say you, Mikhail? Are you to blame?” Klaus asked, giving him a smile.

 

The Soviet wiped the brown hairs from Dom’s face, his fingers tracing over the bandage over her eyes.

 

“What did you gain from mindless torture?” he asked, gripping the gas mask in his other hand.

 

“Mindless? Mindless, you say?”

 

Mikhail got to his feet and looked at Klaus, his arm around Roza’s stomach. The gun was still held to her head and she gave up all fear and accepted her fate.

 

“Don’t worry about me. Do whatever you need to do to get out of here,” Scarlett whispered, feeling the grip around her tighten. Misha had no plans of letting her die or become injured, no way in hell.

 

“Well, such a martyr. But go one, Volkova. You want me dead, no? Then shoot me.”

 

Misha was sweating at the brow, ready to take fire at any moment, but she knew if she shot, Scarlett would take a bullet to the head.

 

She kept looking over to the window to see Angel, whom was still alive, but she would be weakened and badly burned by the gasses.

 

“If you let my friends go,” Misha began, gulping hard, “ _I’ll go back to your Stalag and tell you whatever you want. Let the Americans go, my brother, and the others. I’ll go. Just let them go.”_

 

The room fell silent and Mikhail was not clear on what he was hearing. “Misha!”

 

She placed her rifle on the ground, along with her other military weapons. She ripped her pins from her uniform and gave them to Mikhail.

 

She was serious.

 

“You take my friends, come into my country, my home, and you dangle them in front of me like I am a hungry wolf.”

 

She walked to him and slowly extended her hand to Scarlett.

 

“Let her go.”

He lowered the gun and pushed her into Misha’s arms, she held her for a moment, listening to her quiet breathing and heartbeat. “Go to Mikhail.”

 

There she was, standing tall in front of the man who tortured her and her friends.

 

“Take me but you won’t take my friends. Accept my offer before I change my mind. **_Let the redheaded American out.”_ **

 

It wasn’t like her to stick up for Americans but now? They were her friends and a friend of Misha will be protected at all costs. “Fine.”

 

He went to open the door and unlocked it with the key on his neck, the gas having settled and died down. Misha looked over at her brother and he was stricken with shock.

Angela crawled out, spitting blood and her skin red and inflamed from the toxins. She crawled out slowly, collapsing on the ground before the German captain. “Anymore of this and she will die,” Mikhail spoke up, he was clearly worried about his adoptive little sister.

Misha took a deep breath before giving in to Klaus, giving him her wrists to be cuffed.

 

“Misha. Don’t do this. Don’t you dare do this.” Mikhail was frantic on the inside but he trusted her plans… barely.

 

Misha’s wrists were cuffed and it seemed like all was lost from there. “Come with me, it is best to surrounder.”

Misha knew what she was doing and she knew damn well she wouldn’t give in.

Before he finished walking out the door, he reached into his coat pocket and tossed a mustard gas grenade into the room.

 

 **_“YOU SON OF A BITCH!”_ ** Misha tried to kick the grenade away from them but Klaus was too fast to take her away. He kicked her into the hall to be grabbed by guards, the brief eye contact he made with Angela was chilling. He wasn’t done tormenting them yet because Klaus was evil, cruel… cold. He fired a few bullets into the room, the bullets ricocheted off the walls and one hit Angela in the stomach, fatally weakening her. They were frantic, helpless, reaching for cover in the makeshift gas chamber. Dominika swept Misha’s rifle into her arms, reloaded and got in the mind scent of a soldier once again. They hid in the room and Mikhail was forced to inspect the bullet wound in her stomach. It didn’t go all the way through and she was writing in pain, gripping his hand with all her strength.

 

Her tears turned to laughter as she looked up at him.

“Get out of here… please. This gas will kill you if you don’t escape.”

 

“I’m not leaving you, Angel. I’m not. I’ll carry you out of here if i have to.” Mikhail replied sharply, having to dirty his hands in her blood, the wound was large and she knew if she got up, her insides would be damaged even more, there was no way out and she knew it.

 

Scarlett dropped to her knees and saw her friend slowly dying at only age 18. At 18. She had seen so much for such little time on the earth. For 18, she saved more lives than she would ever know, being a combat nurse gave her the confidence she once lacked.

 

“Angela… don’t die on me. I can’t lose you.” Rosa said with teary eyes, pushing the hair from her face. All her friends were around her for the final time and it was hard to take in. Roza was trying so hard to keep herself together but she was ripping at the seams and poured everything out. That was her baby, her angel, her best friend. The younger who stood up for her, the kid with a heart too big to bare, she had to wear it on her outside to fit it.

 

_“No, no, no! I can’t - I WON’T let this happen, I can’t! No! Not you, not you.” Dominika rubbed Scarlett’s back and thought it best to tell her the truth about the situation._

 

_“Roza, I… you understand the severity,” she began slowly, feeling tears build in her own eyes._

_Angela was smiling, smiling at her friends who loved her so much._

 

_“Listen to me, Scar. We don’t have much time, this room is going to be filled with gas soon and… I’m gonna die, Scar. There’s a bullet in my stomach and both of us aren’t getting out of here.” Angela’s smile never faded and she gripped Scar’s hand so tight, her tendons were pressing to the surface._

 

_“I love you, Scar. So, so much. You’re a kind, beautiful woman and I thanked God every single day for you. I thanked God every day to be granted the… the honor of meeting a Soviet Lieutenant, having the honor of knowing all of you.”_

_Even stoic Mikhail was starting to get teary eyed, a single droplet rolling down his cheek._

 

_“Go, go and don’t look back. Keep your eyes ahead and please...  tell…. Tell Misha,”_

 

_She was coughing up blood, she knew she was on her way out._

 

_“Tell Misha I love her so much and I know she’ll bring us justice. You all will.”_

_Scarlett wiped her tears only to have more fall into place, her entire body was shaking, her lips were quivering and her voice was shaking so bad she could barely breath._

 

_“I’ll be okay. Just go. Make ‘em bleed. Don’t stop until there’s blood and teeth on the ground.”_

 

_Angela looked over at Mikhail and put her hand on his shoulder, still smiling._

 

_“Carry on, young soldier, you will live in my heart until my blood isn’t red anymore. Thank you for waving the red flag until the end. I’m proud of you, Angela.” Mikhail kissed her hand and his tear rolled down her skin._

 

_The gas was filling the room and they really did have to go. He put his gask mask on her to at least protect her from the toxins. Nikolay and Nika lead the way out and Scarlett took a final look before Mikhail was forced to yank her out of the room. Now wasn’t the time for tears because tears wouldn’t bring her back, tears wouldn’t bring back her baby._

 

_Miss Angela Young sacrificed herself so her friends would go on, they wouldn’t escape the gas dragging her with them._

 

_The group was silent, the only thing that could be heard were their heavy boots on the ground, shaking the entire building._

_Scarlett stopped crying and only had one thing set on her mind:_

_Make._

_Them._

_Bleed._

 

_There was only one way out and the Slazaks were watching over it, so surely they would catch Misha being swept away. “Where do we go?” Nikolay chimed in, looking around the hallway, one set of stairs leading up and down._

 

_“Up, I know places like this. We have to reach the surface and get the hell out of here. Where’s Sveta?” Said Nikolay._

_“Alright, stop asking so many questions, we need to focus,” Dom said, looking at the map on the wall. “Up. We will find the Slazaks up there.”_

 

_Up they went, racing up the metal stairs, hands linked until they got to the top. “This way,” Dom could feel it in her bones, they were close. And sure enough, the same underground passage they used to get it, they’d use it to get out. Misha wasn’t there._

 

_“Run, run! Now, we have to get out of here!” Mikhail said urgently, eyes wide like a terrified deer._

 

_They didn’t question him, they just ran like hell. When they made it to the surface, they didn’t stop to catch their breath, they had to sprint through the ghettos of Warsaw until they found safe ground._

 

_It didn’t take them long with the Slazaks leading, they knew these streets like clockwork. They made it to the Ashkenazi Militia’s hideout and Scarlett literally collapsed when they were in safe hands._

_She heaved and coughed, her mouth dryer than any desert. Her stomach was churning and the mental image of what Angel felt was enough to make her sick, throwing up the liquids she was given beforehand._

 

_“Get her to rest, she needs it. Go, Krystian.” ordered his sister. Carefully, he helped her up and guided her to the shacks for houses, giving her water and a small meal._

 

_“Where’s Misha?” Krystina asked._

 

_“She… she didn’t make it with us. She surrounded herself so Klaus would let us go. I have to get her  back.”_

 

_She nodded and could not say much else._

_Everything he loved became everything he lost._

_He blamed himself, not stepping up, not fighting hard enough._

 

_But it wasn’t his fault at all._

 

_For the first time in almost two years, they were separated and he was lost without her._

 

_His Misha, his little sister, his little soldier…_

 

_His myshka._

 

_Was gone._

 

_He balled his fists and pinched his eyes, letting out a breath._

**_‘My sister, why have you gone where I can not follow you?’_ ** he thought to himself.

 

**‘Why have you run far from me where I may never find you?’**

 

None of it made sense to him, why was it her? Why was she so foolish? It was not foolishness that drove her, yet bravery and love for her friends.

 

As time went on, he saw in the paper she would be executed by firing squad and she was in prison in Warsaw. In just three days that passed, she would meet her death.

When he went to see Dominika who had a new patch on her eye, he embraced her tightly and dropped to his knees, hiding his face in her stomach as she tangled her fingers in his hair.

He was helpless, alone, and couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

It was rare for him to just… fall apart.

But his world was taken from him, ripped, stolen.

 

Svetlana wasn’t the slightest bit worried about it because she had plans of getting her out, with big brother’s help.

 

It shocked him when she came to his living quarters with a knife and coffee grounds.

 

“I know you love your blonde hair but… it’s time for a change up if you want to get Misha out of prison.”

“What’s the knife for?”

**_“The beard’s gotta go.”_ **

 

He trusted her with a razor sharp knife on his throat, cutting the hairs with little effort as the coffee grounds at on his head, wrapped in a cotton shirt to keep it warm so the color would transfer. “You’ll look good, trust me,” Sveta chuckled, running the knife on his cheek.

 

“How do you always find me?” he mumbled, if he talked to much she might slit his throat.

“Magic, my dear Mikhail. But really, I’m always watching you, even if you don’t always see me.”

Her smile said it all. “Let me rinse your hair.”

He was horrified, what if he didn’t like it?

When she dried his hair and face, she gave a wolf whistle. “Daaaa, it looks wonderful, Mikhail. The ladies will love it.”

“Is that so?” he smirked, leaning back in the comfy chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It is so, now come on, we have very little time to waste. Allow me to change.”

 

Seeing Mikhail’s new hair color was the only thing that made Scarlett smile so widely in those three days.

 

“Hot damn, Mickey! Who’s that handsome man?” She joked, admiring his new look.

 

“Huh, I like the beard but this will do.”

Mikhail laughed and shrugged.

“Thank you, krasavitsa, the feeling is mutual.”

“Oh, you think I’m handsome?”

“Ahg! That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Scarlett smiled and twirled around behind him, resting her hands on his shoulders. He reached to touch her hands and they were cold and dry, becoming calloused faster than they both thought. “

“Let’s go, handsome. No time waste.” _Petra_ chimed, now dressed in her reporting attire.

 

He followed, looping his around her waist, only getting away with it because she was in a peachy mood. “You’re lucky you’ve gotten this far, Mikhail Volkov…”

**_“Am I? I’m only going as far and you’ll let me, malysh.”_ **

 

“Now, you’re no longer Mikhail. You’re my assistant. Okay?”

“Alright.”

 

When they went to the prison, Misha was in the front for spectating. She knew Sveta but not the other man.

 

“Hallo! My name is Petra Wittkamp, head of _Wittkamp_ _Täglich! May I interview this woman?”_

_“Ahh! Petra, such a joy to see you. Who is your friend?”_

_“This is my brother, Peter. He is my assistant for the day.”_

_“That’s just fine, Petra. She’s all yours.” the deskman left briefly for his lunch._

_“Mishaaaaa Volkovaaaa, my dear, it’s a pleasure.”_

 

She rolled her eyes and glared at the man next to her.

 

_“Screw off.”_

“There’s no need for that, my dear… just come with me for photographs…”

 

They slipped out the back in seconds like she was never there and she hid her with her jacket as they slipped away.

 

“Like my new look?” Mikhail chimed.

 

_“Holy shi-- wait?! Mikhail? Oh my, you look so different.”_

_Just like that, a new chapter in their lives was coming to a close._

_Winter was fast approaching and they had to team back up with their military base to begin the brave feat of taking down Klaus and his goons._

_When Misha came back to the hideout, she kissed Nikolay deeply and told him she loved him so very much and never wanted to leave him again._

 

_“I love you, Nikolay. Don’t ever leave me again.”_

_Just as he promised that, Dominika told Mikhail she had to leave Warsaw and go back to Soviet land to recover and help her troops in Austria with the British._

 

_“I’ll miss you, Dominika, so very much. Write me a letter soon, okay? I love you, more than you’ll ever know. Take care of yourself.”_

_She kissed his cheek goodbye and he kissed her hand, his now coffee stained locked falling over her skin._

 

_As he went to check on his Scarlett Rose, he found her holding a picture of Angela._

_“It’ll be alright, Roza… she did it to save you.” he said gently, looking at Angel’s beautiful smile in the photograph with Scarlett._

_It was moments before they left the country and they were leaning on each other, holding the American flag in the air. “I just wish it didn’t have to end this way.”_

_“Me too, Roza. I already… miss her so much, she really was the light of my life.”_

_“Hah… she told me she really adored you, Mickey. You really made an impact on her… and me too. I’m sorry all this happened but I can not help but be glad I met you,” she started, lowering the picture on her desk._

 

_“You… you mean a lot to me, Mikhail. I know we’ve battled each other and I did slap you, but I’m… i’m sorry and I care about you.”_

To be fair, she didn’t know what was going on between him and Dom, but in truth, she felt herself falling for him.

Mikhail smiled. He physically moved her chair to turn him to her. He got down on his knees and rested his head on her lap, shutting his eyes softly.

“Everytime I have loved someone, they’ve been taken from me. They have left my side because my history of war tears at my insides and it’s a burden hard to carry. My Dominika? It’s no use, we’ve tried,” he began slowly, feeling her fingers in his hair.

 

“May I have the honors of trying with you, Miss Scarlett Rose?” when he looked up at her with those devilish blue eyes, she saw nothing but an angel.

 

He regretted saying these words when the look on her face changed. He swallowed.

 

“An American with a Ruskie lover boy?” she started with a smile, “I like the sound of that. A lot.”

 

Into another brutal winter, at least the lovers of Warsaw would be warm in the flames of their love and devotion.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the end of Volume 1 More to come of course :)


End file.
